


The Covenant

by FortuneFaded2012



Category: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types, Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins
Genre: Abduction, Alternate Universe, Falling In Love, Family, Forced Marriage, Gen, Genetics, Multi, Romantic Friendship, Science Experiments, epidemic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-10-13
Updated: 2017-10-15
Packaged: 2017-11-16 05:19:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 48,827
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/535956
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FortuneFaded2012/pseuds/FortuneFaded2012
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU, Gale/OC - In the Dark Days, Panem was nearly destroyed by an influenza epidemic coined the Black Death. In order to save their population, the remaining leaders created a set of new laws that bind their citizens in contracts to breed a genetically superior race.  </p><p>What can become of a soft spoken farm girl accustomed to miles and miles of golden fields with sparse trees, gentle sloping plains, and deep warm breezes? Perhaps she can do far more than she ever dreamed in a world where her genetic make-up could be the key to ridding the Capitol of the Black Death forever. Arwen Southerland along with her contract partner Gale Hawthorne will discover exactly what they are capable of when they find themselves and their families at risk.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Arwen of District 9

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Five Loaves of Bread: Dark Toast](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/18750) by Aimmyarrowshigh. 



> I originally read "Five Loaves of Bread: Dark Toast" by Aimmyarrowshigh, a Hunger Games story that spurred me to write this story. All due credit for the idea of contracted government marriages are due to that author. My story makes a different, less dark path than the aforementioned one and does not include such awesome ideas as the option to apply to be a single or the amazing backstory with Cinna and Portia. Aimyourarrowshigh truly does a fabulous job of making a dark theme enjoyable. The cause of the contracts is different as well as the nature of them in that story.

The breeze shakes the wheat in tumultuous waves, giving the low slope of the hill a rolling appearance. I gaze toward my home, perched on the hill beside my grandparent's farmhouse. My existence is the whole of those two small houses and a barn nestled between the fields of wheat. I am blessed to have grown with my paternal grandparents in my district, only one child per family unit is chosen to remain in a district. My father was the chosen child from his family, so I was able to grow up where he was raised.

I sigh as I watch the golden wheat billowing around me. My youngest sibling, Tomik is always terribly ill, so my sisters and I made the decision to let my parents choose him as the one child who will remain in our district to complete his contract.

My marriage contract will be made one month from now and that is why I have been spending so much time memorizing the view of my home, my surroundings, the faces of my family and friends. Once you have been contracted to another district you will never physically see your family again. I've heard of people though, who have been sent to the same district as an older sibling or another relative. I can only hope that maybe Brenna or Bronwyn would end up being near to me. The chances are not in my favor though, because there are eleven other districts in which my two sisters may be assigned.

The primary industry of my district is grain. I am accustomed to miles and miles of golden fields with sparse trees, gentle sloping plains, and deep warm breezes. My father, Landon, hails from this region, a sun-kissed man of the fields. The sandy tone of his hair matches the pure gold of the wheat just before harvest. He and my sisters have polished bronze-like skin that tans more in the summer months. Father's skin shines with sweat on working days and makes my mother smile in a heavenly way. He has a loud raucous personality and a pure loving heart. He only knows how to love big and with every inch of his soul.

My mother always murmurs to me that she feels blessed, grateful even that she was contracted to such a man. My mother, Faun, is a native of District 7 with its immense forests and large mountains. She always jokes that she couldn't have been sent to a more different place than the one she came from. Her stories and folk legends about her birthplace always filled me with delight as a child and still do when I hear her whispering them conspiratorially to Tomik as she tucks him into bed. My mother has milky cream colored skin and deep crimson hair, a long slender body and thin nimble fingers. Both Tomik and I look almost exactly like her, but for the eyes.

Mother's eyes are a dark emerald green that never replicated itself in any of her children. Though father's deep browns are identical in my twin sisters. Tomik and I share our own shade of light green that father says is like the color of young wheat sprouts, bursting to life in the spring.

Brenna and Bronwyn are like fair maidens of the field, with bronze skin and strawberry blond hair. If in the sun their hair alights a flaming yellow red, but if in the shade of the house it shines a fairer yellow.

When I think of my family now, all I can think about are the genetic markers that made us look the way we do.  My life depends on it now. To Panem strong healthy genes are more important than practical skills.

Ever since the Dark Days, when a virus nearly killed the entire population, good genetics have become the most important thing about you. They called that virus the Black Death. In school we learn about how it swept the entire nation. The Black Death was an invisible murderer. It didn't differentiate between gender, skin color, or age. Everyone was susceptible to its silent and deadly grip. It took nearly ten years for the virus, a type of influenza to be banished from the nation of Panem. In order to revamp their floundering country, wrought with destruction and political unrest, the remaining leaders created a set of new laws that bind their citizens to bettering the entire nation.

When each citizen reaches adulthood they are contracted in marriage to an individual who will genetically benefit the growth of the country. Every paired couple must have at least four children. In the event that a family has more than four children, the Capitol will provide them with a larger more accommodating home as well as the privilege of keeping two of their children in their home district. Otherwise, each family must decide amongst themselves when their children come of age which child will stay to keep genetic lines in the district and which children will be sent off to help populate other districts.

In the event that a family does not meet quota, they may be punished or ridiculed by the Capitol. Punishment entails serving the Capitol in their areas of need. If a spouse dies, a new spouse may be assigned and the remaining family unit relocated, if their quota has not already been met. I have only met one woman who lost her husband and was reassigned a second man who had lost his wife. Between them they had three children from their previous contracts and were therefore told that they must provide a fourth child.

Sometimes, there are rumors about worse situations though. There was a young man named Geoffrey who was unable to bare children. This fact was discovered during his genetic testing when he was seventeen. Rumor states that Geoffrey was forced to move to the Capitol and no one has heard of him since. He never even finished the proper schooling.

The typical schooling of a child in Panem involves learning the various subjects such as mathematics, history, and science until the age of thirteen where you begin preparations for your contract. From the ages of thirteen to seventeen each child learns the various trades of Panem; however, here in District 9 fourteen to eighteen year olds are forced to work in the fields as free labor three days a week _for the good of the nation._ Labor assignments usually last the beginning of the school day; afterward each of us is then expected to return to our studies in the trades of Panem and to continue learning our school subjects.

At the age of seventeen children are expected to begin taking a series of tests. Physical and mental health are assessed on a regular basis. Genetic testing using epithelial cells, eggs, sperm and blood are compiled in a database to use for cross examination. Skills tests are performed in which each person exhibits their abilities in the various industries of each district. Self-evaluations and formal assessments on personality and other characteristics are taken during written examinations.

I have taken the skills test on industries four times, yet a clear result has never been obtained. During my most recent skills test I managed to set the oven on fire in the testing lab, knock over a container of sewing supplies, and drop a bag of flour which burst everywhere in a white cloud. Previous attempts to showcase my best skills only ended in my immense nervousness ruining everything. My professors assure me that no one has ever taken the skills test more than five times. I sincerely hope that my last attempt at passing the skills test will be this week.

My final genetic testing was completed four weeks ago and I can expect the results of those assessments any day now. Since the completion of those tests my mind has been constantly cataloguing and memorizing the features of my family: the shape of their eyes, the tones of their skin, the color of their hair, and the curves of their smiles. Nearly every night I dream about the type of man that I will be bound to and what our children will look like.

In school we take a health course that prepares us in the matters of creating and caring for a family of our own. Both boys and girls learn the inner workings of each others bodies and why it is important that we populate our country. That course in particular caused more blushing and awkwardness than I thought possible. I learned a great deal about nursing and care giving though and I am grateful for that. My mother believes that when my skills results eventually come through I will be assigned to be a healer. My sisters and friends at school agree that my quiet disposition and quick mind will be great attributes for a healer.

I still cling to the notion that I will probably be assigned a job working in the fields of District 11, farming. I would have thought it as the lot of my life here in District 9, had I not given up the right to make roots here by letting my parents choose Tomik to stay.

When Tomik was born my mother was overjoyed to have met quota and finally had a son. As the years passed though, it became evident that he was frail and often ill. Tomik is a gentle child who looks and acts so similarly to me that people think we should have been born twins, rather than my sisters. Tomik sooths my nerves when I am distraught by simply being the kind and hopeful child that he is. He's only ten; he loves stories and is imaginative beyond belief.

Where Tomik and I are alike in every way, Brenna and Bronwyn couldn't be more different from each other. Though their appearance is identical, their personalities are in deep contrast. Brenna has a loud boisterous personality and a quick steady anger that is sharp like the blade of a sword. She cares for girly things like ribbon and flowers in her hair and kissing boys behind the barn. Bronwyn is a rowdy prankster who enjoys doing devilish things and making jokes at every turn. She is never angry, but rather carefree instead.

The twins are fifteen and work in the fields on the same day that I do. Bronwyn always enjoys driving the tractor and keeping pace with the local boys who hoot and holler at her antics. She's a tomboy through and through and so much like my father. Like the son that Tomik can never be. I can't imagine life without my siblings and dread each day that draws me nearer to leaving them.

"Hey space case, quit your daydreaming and come home for supper." Bronwyn's voice carries like a banshee on the wind.

I smile gently and shake myself from my thoughts. I rise, dusting myself off. A giggle escapes my lips as she runs quickly back toward the house. My approach is much slower as I stop at the water pump to cup a handful and splash it on my face. When I reach the porch Nana and Papa Southerland are walking from their farmhouse. I greet them with a wave and flash them a smile. Again, I feel the blessing of having them in my life. I always wonder how difficult it is for them to have let three children go off to other districts.

"Papa, let me help you up the steps," I say and grasp my grandfather's arm to support him as he climbs.

He shoots me a stern look, because he doesn't like to think he is frail and in need of help. He's getting fairly old and only quit working at the mill last spring. He has respiratory issues form the grain dust that permeates the mill when the wheat is stripped into its vital parts.

Nana sighs as Papa begins grumbling under his breath. My Nana and Papa fight constantly, but they love fiercely. I think I would prefer the relationship that my own parents have, but if my contracted partner is a fighting man I will just have to deal with it.

Tomik opens the screen door as the three of us cross the porch and smiles warmly at my Nana when she kisses his forehead and tousles his hair. His eyes catch mine for a brief moment and I see that strange look that he has been giving me all too frequently. I try to give him a reassuring smile as I squeeze his shoulder and follow him to the table.

My mother has her apron tied tightly round her waste and her sleeves rolled up to her elbows. I watch her as she stirs the large old pot on the stove, one hand on her hip and the other expertly twirling the ladle. My father should be home from work any minute. Mother likes for the food to be ready for him.

Brenna is perched on the counter, reading a note and giggling. It's probably a love note from another boy, she switches boys so fast it's hard to keep track sometimes. My mother sighs deeply as she eyes Brenna out of the corner of her eye.

It isn't smart for a girl to be running around with a million suitors. Not when you will be contracted to one man someday for the rest of your life. Forming attachments with someone isn't wise. You may fall deeply in love and that won't suit the Capitol's needs. You must do as the Capitol desires _for the good of the nation_.

"Oh Orville would you stop it already," Nana snaps as Papa continues to grumble under his breath. He has taken his seat at the table and Nana is currently helping him push his chair in. Apparently this action makes him feel useless too. She bats at his shoulder and he finally ceases his protests.

"Pops you need to lose some weight," Bronwyn chimes as she slaps his round stomach jokingly. He has gained some weight since the end of his services at the mill. It isn't uncommon in this district to be on the heftier side. Grain makes bread and bread is fattening. Having a stagnant lifestyle now only adds to the issue. Nana smirks as Papa rolls his eyes.

"I'm carrying twins, can't you tell," Papa says as he pats his stomach with a large hand. Bronwyn laughs. It's a running joke between them that Papa's round stomach is reminiscent of a pregnant woman's protruding belly. I watch the antics as I pull dishes from the cupboard over Brenna's shoulder. She is completely enthralled in her love letter, smiling wolfishly. My mother sighs deeply again as she watches us.

"Brenna, put that letter down and help your sister set the table please," she intones sternly.

Brenna looks up at me as if in a daze, realizing I am standing right in front of her. She sighs heavily and rolls her eyes as if helping me is the most annoying thing on the entire face of the earth. Together with the aid of Tomik we completely set the long table in preparation for dinner. Bronwyn is regaling Papa with a why did the chicken cross the wheat field joke when we all finally take our seats, leaving the head chair open for my father.

We only wait two minutes before he comes barreling through the screen door, swinging his lunch pail and whistling a tune. He sniffs the aroma that is wafting around the kitchen before taking his seat. My mother grins as he winks at her and picks up the lid on the nearest pot. Coyote soup with bread. Father ladles a portion of the soup into the first bowl. We pass the bowls in a circle until everyone has a full one in front of them. Mother passes the bread and butter round the table, while we all stare at my father with expectant faces.

"Dig in!" My father laughs as we all begin to eat.

We always wait for father, because mother thinks it's rude to start before him when he is our provider. Father thinks it's silly for her to place him on a higher pedestal than everyone else. He grips her free hand on the tabletop as he happily devours his meal.

"You've done it again, magnificent," my father says as he serves himself a second helping.

I watch the look of content cross my mother's face as she observes him. Again, I wonder if I will ever look at my husband that way. What kind of man will he be? A man who enjoys my cooking and thanks me for it daily? A man who works hard and comes home whistling merrily? Or a man like Papa, who is quiet and steady, quick to anger, but slow to forget.

As the meal begins to dwindle down and my sisters start bickering about something that I didn't catch the beginning of, my mother raises her hands for silence. I blanch, because I know she is about to make a fuss over me. Her gaze hovers over my face for a moment before she looks around the table at the rest of my family.

"We are blessed to be as happy as we are and to have shared a life with Arwen. She has grown to be a wonderful young woman and on this day we need to thank her for everything she has done for us." She smiles as she rises to pull something from under the sink, a small dark box tied with a silky blue ribbon. She softly cups my face in her hands after she places the box in front of me.

"Arwen darling, we love you. Remember it always. Happy Birthday," I close my eyes as her chapped lips press a firm kiss to my cheek. Her proximity allows me to inhale the soft scent of her hair.

"Happy Birthday!" Everyone choruses around the table.

I thank them profusely and shakily open the package. Gifts are a big deal when you live in a poor district, which is every district really, except for the districts close to the Capitol. My hands quake as I remove the top and reveal a golden chain from within. My mother pulls it from the depths and dangles it in front of me. Now there is a small trinket visible, swaying on it softly. I carefully inspect it and see that it is in fact a circle encasing a golden bird. I sharply intake a breath and feel tears brimming my eyes. Mother gently clasps it around my neck.

"It's a mockingjay," Nana tells me as she admires it.

I read about them once in a textbook at school. The product of Capitol modified birds and Mockingbirds. The mockingjay can mimic tunes in a manner most unlike any other bird. It is beautiful in the gold setting of the necklace.

I hug each of my family members before taking my seat once more. A gift of this magnitude, something made of real gold, must have cost them a fortune. Tomik confirms my suspicions.

"We saved for months," he smiles broadly, "even I helped!" I pat his hand affectionately and let another tear slip down my cheek. Bronwyn wipes it away and calls me a spoil sport, because Birthdays are supposed to be happy occasions. I clear my throat and thank everyone again for good measure.

"There is something else too," my father says as I collect myself.

He places a large yellow envelope in my hands. One glance confirms that it is from the Capitol. The large emblem is stamped on the seal. It can only be one thing, my genetic testing results.

When your results have been compiled and cross checked with all the eligible partners of your age they are combined in a list. Each person is given a profile that tells you their name and level of compatibility to your personality and genetic code. I stare numbly at the envelope and feel a tightening in my stomach. The contents of this envelope will tell me who the most eligible men are that could be my contract partner.

"Picked it up at the postal service after work," father says as he takes his seat once more. I give my family a panicked glance. Brenna is already at my side eager to look at the contents.

"Open it sweetheart," my mother says with kind eyes. I notice that she is gripping my father's hand tightly under the table. Even Nana and Papa are holding each other.

I use my butter knife to slice across the seal. I peer inside and pull a rather thick looking packet out. The cover letter has the Capitol's emblem with a brief message explaining the contents. My mind briefly wanders toward the day that I took my very own picture for the packet that will be sent to my eligible partners. My mother curled my hair that day and let me borrow her nicest dress, she even dabbed my lips with red juice to make them more colorful.

I slowly turn the first page and am met with the smiling face of a blond haired blue eyed man. I scan his statistics quickly before squinting at his picture once more, trying to determine if his smile is fake. Everything about him looks too pristine and perfect. Cato Bartholomew, District 2, a 90% match in genetics, and 68% match in personality.

"Well he sure is handsome and from District 2 too!" Brenna squeals as she presses her shoulder into mine to get a better look at him. Bronwyn hovers over our connected shoulders and scoffs at the picture.

"He looks like he has a stick up his ass," she muses. Frankly, I agree with her, but I wouldn't exactly say it. Mother gives her a reproachful look that says; _watch the language_ , because she doesn't want Tomik being subjected to it.

"Why don't we go to the couch so we can all see better," father says.

We all trudge toward the couch. I am given the center seat and everyone scatters around me, vying for a chance to see Cato Bartholomew, my first potential husband. The paper feels heavy in my hands as I turn the page to reveal the next match. A large boy with dark skin and eyes smirks back at me. My mother prompts me to read his statistics because she can't see them all too well.

"Thresh Jackson, District 11, a 79% match in genetics, and 84% match in personality," I murmur as I inspect his round face. His expression is pleasant and calming.

I turn the page once more and sigh dejectedly at the image I am presented with. Tomik giggles when he sees the man, who has purple hair and clear blue eyes. His entire ensemble looks ludicrous and flashy.

"Zander Nockturn, Capitol, a 97% match in genetics, and 81% match in personality," I murmur. Tomik is still giggling and Bronwyn makes a fishy face at him. Brenna, however, is intrigued by the fact that this man lives in the Capitol. I glance up and see that my mother is suppressing a laugh when Tomik asks a silly question.

"Will your babies have purple hair?" He seems genuinely concerned. Everyone finally exhales their laughs, unable to contain them.

"Of course not tumbleweed, it's obviously dyed!" Bronwyn scoffs as she fluffs our brother's crimson locks. He flushes slightly beneath the smattering of freckles on his cheeks.

"Those are really good percentages. He must be a nice boy," Papa muses as he scans the numbers below the Capitol citizen's name.

I blanch slightly, because I still don't feel one hundred percent confident that a series of assessments will properly match me with a man of good character. Brenna is gripping my arm, ready to see the next prospective contract partner. I appease her and flip the page.

I inhale deeply as my eyes scan the numbers below his face. He is rather handsome with olive tanned skin and inky colored hair that matches the darkness of night. It is his eyes that I am drawn to the most. Two orbs of molten silver that shine in what must've been the flash of the camera. He isn't smiling, but his rugged face seems gentle in some way.

"Gale Hawthorne, District 12, a 99% match in genetics, and 94% in personality," my voice comes out in one low breath.

All of the numbers in my packet were fairly high in compatibility, which is slightly unusual. Yet, these numbers are unfathomable. Father whistles long and deep. My parents exchange a meaningful glance and Nana pushes forward to get a better look. Her face is beaming as she looks the page over.

"That's the one," my mother murmurs softly as she places a hand on my knee.

I can't take my eyes off his face. When a couple has percentages that are so undeniably compatible the Capitol wastes no time assigning them. It seems almost silly really that these other men were included in my packet. There will be no drawn-out decision process where the pros and cons of each match are weighted, because the Capitol will surely think that we are the best choice for each other.

Brenna is sighing dreamily beside me, "He is undeniably handsome. You're so lucky Arwen."

"Appearance isn't everything," I mumble, though the Capitol wants us to believe it is. We are being bred for the best possible genetics to keep future strands of epidemic viruses at bay.

Bred like cattle to reproduce perfect replicas that will serve the Capitol's purpose. The marriage portion of the contract is just the Capitol's way of making their breeding stock feel more civil about it. I've thought the matter over greatly and discussed it with my closest friends, but I would never discuss it in public. It's treasonous to admit that our laws are dated and unfair.

"I can't wait to tell my friends about your percentages, everyone will be so jealous! You have to bring his picture and show the girls at school," Brenna breaths, completely ignoring my previous comment.

"I could still be contracted to someone else," I remind her.

She laughs harshly, "Don't be silly Arwen, you know what percentages like that mean." She stands to twirl in the middle of the room, before she retrieves her love letter from the counter. It seems that Bronwyn doesn't quite know what to think or say about my potential contract partner. She examines his face for something to poke fun at, but his only fault is the lack of smile.

"Maybe he hates having his picture taken," she assures me. I nod, hoping that his personality is not as bland as the picture would lead me to believe. Tomik shoulders his way onto the couch where Brenna and Bronwyn previously vacated their spot. He grips my palm tightly. I run my thumb across his soft skin. For a long silent minute he looks at the picture in my lap. I can't bear to set my eyes on it anymore. Instead I watch my brother's face, memorizing the soft features.

"He's strong. Like the lumberjacks in Mama's stories," Tomik appraises finally. I nod once more.

"Yes, I see it too," mother says as she lovingly smoothes her hand through Tomik's hair, "He'll protect Arwen from the Sasquatch." My mother always tells stories about a creature who lives in the deep forests of District 7, the Sasquatch. A fearsome beast with a ridiculous name, whose giant feet leave large prints on the forest floor.

Mother's nighttime folk legends always tell of adventurous run-ins with the beast, where people nearly escape with their lives. Tomik giggles as mother makes a silly face at him and growls low in her belly like the Sasquatch in her stories. She's cheering him up, because she doesn't want him to keep dwelling on the fact that I am leaving in only a month. These genetic results only serve to make my contract seem more real, a tangible reminder that my time here is finite.

"Come on tumbleweed it's time for bed," my father says as he rises and beckons to Tomik.

I watch them disappear into my parent's bedroom where Tomik has a cot that is pressed tightly against the far wall. I share the second bedroom with my sisters. My parents thought that three girls should have privacy and when Tomik is particularly sick they always like to have him as near as possible in the night.

Papa rises and bids us goodnight, pressing kisses into our cheeks before he goes. Nana and mother remain, both sitting closer to me. Nana tucks herself so close that the fleshy skin of her side presses hot warmth along the length of my body. For a moment, the three of us sit in silence. I hear my sisters giggling in our bedroom and then a loud noise followed by hysterical laughter. Their antics never cease.

Now that there is less pressure to appear pleased with my results I allow myself to fully feel the rumblings in my gut. It is overwhelming to be faced with your future, especially one that you don't get to choose freely.

My mother sighs deeply when I begin to softly cry. I let my head fall into the crook between her shoulder and neck. Once again I am overcome with the sheer scent of her. It causes me to cry more deeply. In only one month's time I will be struggling to remember how she smells like fresh air and hard work. Nana pats me affectionately with her soft palms, spreading my hair away from my tear-stained face.

"I still remember the first time I opened my envelope and saw your father's face. I knew immediately that he was the one that I would contract with. He was smiling so widely, the kind of smile he has right before he bursts into laughter," with my ear pressed against my mother's skin I can feel her voice vibrating through her.

Despite how soft and beautiful she is, her voice is a deep raspy quality that rattles in your chest when she sings old mountain songs. My mother knows so many stories and songs I feel it should be impossible for her to remember all the details.

"And I remember turning the page and peering down at your Papa. He looked so angry the old fool," Nana laughs harshly as she reminisces, "I was so afraid he would be an awful man. Beat me, or force me to do things I didn't want to do. Wasn't I pleasantly surprised to find out he had a gentle soul under that sour exterior." Nana smirks at the thought. Her eyes are dancing as she thinks about the past.

I try to imagine what it was like when my Nana, who hailed from District 11, officially met my Papa after his long journey from District 4. They were contracted here because this is where their skills were most needed.

I contemplate what it must have been like when my mother came here for the first time and joined my father at our farm. She must have felt so welcome having his family here to fill the void from those that she had left behind.

My mother's voice vibrates through my skull as she speaks up again, "Everything will be new and different, but there is nothing to be afraid of darling. I have faith that you will be loved and provided for in every way." I try to collect myself and quell the stream of silent tears. My mother always has a good sense of the world. If she believes that I will be fine, then I shall believe it too.

"Now, let's have a look at him again. A good hard look this time," Nana says. I gingerly sit up and let them hold the paper up between their two hands. Nana is right; I need a better look at him. With everyone expectantly watching me earlier I couldn't settle too deeply on his features. I remind myself that these two women have been through the exact same thing as me. I need to come to terms with my fate and accept the lot that I am given _for the good of Panem._

"Ah, see here. He has the most beautiful eyes," Nana whispers. I smile and nod as the three of us examine the silvery hued orbs. They are oval shaped and rimmed with thick dark lashes.

"When things are troubling, just look into those eyes of his and remember that they show his soul," My mother whispers into my other ear, "and those full lips, I'm sure he smiles. He wouldn't have these laugh lines at the corners of his eyes if he didn't." My mother runs her fingertip along the lips and eyes of his face. I didn't notice how plump his lips were before, nor how those soft creases indicate that he laughs often.

"And here, the set of his neck and shoulders," Nana thumbs them as she speaks; "they're set from hard work. Strong and dependable." My mother hums her agreement. I allow myself to smile once more, because both of them have eased the tension in my core.

My mother's emerald eyes meet mine as she places the packet back on my lap, "Most important of all is his surname, Hawthorne. It's the same name as a majestic type of tree. You know how I love my trees." I smirk at her as she wiggles her eyebrows.

The clock on the mantelpiece chimes and we all hug before leaving each other. For the millionth time in my life I feel blessed for the family that I have been given. All I can do is pray that my future family will be just as wonderful.

* * *

I wake early and quickly dress for the day, donning my uniform for my mandatory labor assignment. I comb my locks into submission and plait them on the side of my head, so that I can easily fit my straw hat over my thick hair.

Mandatory labor days are dreaded by most of my friends, but Bronwyn and I have always enjoyed them. Being in the fields as the sun rises is akin to witnessing the earth being set ablaze. The wheat glows a multitude of shades as the rays of light spread across the land. My sisters both groan when I shake their shoulders to wake them.

Their assignment day is the same as mine, but we don't often work in the same blocked off sections. Bronwyn typically drives one of the giant tractors, while Brenna is slotted with jobs like cutting stray stalks and bundling them together. I typically work in the fields that need fertilizing, spreading the Capitol created nutrients. On more than one occasion I have been subject to being on the pesticide team, the only job that I haven't enjoyed.

My favorite labor assignment was in the actual mill itself, where my father works daily. In the mill they grind the raw wheat into flour, or use germinated wheat and dry it to create malt, when the raw wheat is broken into parts the outer husk called the bran can be used in a number of ways. Even the dried stalks from the fields can be utilized. My mother weaves baskets and other items from the dry wheat stalks. Her long slender fingers always make quick work of the task.

Today I have been assigned to the storage rooms. There are large metal rooms where the wheat is stored for long periods of time until it is determined what should be done with it. Once the wheat has been given a purpose, workers sweep it into square shoots in the middle of the floor where it travels to be ground into flour. My job today will be to inspect the stores of wheat for insects and moisture. Moisture breeds mold, which can ruin an entire room of wheat in a very short time. Insects are just as bothersome.

My sisters and I walk with our school bags over our shoulders. Our day clothes and books packed tightly inside with our lunches. After our mandatory labor assignments are complete for the morning we will be allowed to go back to school during the lunch period.

"I've got field C-22 today, what about you?" Bronwyn asks as we trudge along the two mile stretch of dirt road between our home and village. Brenna groans before she kicks a pebble roughly with the toe of her boot.

"I've got pesticide team, field L-54. My partner is that awful brute Kolger." She throws her hands up in frustration as we continue onward.

"They put me in the storage rooms today," I inform them. My schoolbag feels heavy, weighted down by the genetic results that are folded neatly inside. My heart feels lighter at least. The feelings from last night have subsided somewhat. For the better half of the night I laid awake thinking about my contract. When I finally drifted to sleep I dreamt of silver eyes.

"Lucky! I've never gotten storage rooms," Brenna bemoans. I laugh lightly at my fortune and stay silent for the rest of the walk as my sisters talk about an assignment for their health course.

* * *

When my mandatory labor assignment is complete I walk back to school with some classmates and immediately enter the locker room to change into my regular attire. Lunch seems to be the social event of the year today. Everyone is loudly discussing their results and comparing pictures, statistics, and districts. Brenna was right, nearly all the girls think that my best match is the most handsome man they have seen. They giggle and whisper to each other as they peer at his face.

Poppy Warren, one of the most beautiful girls in the district, nearly shreds his picture when she sees how high my percentages are with him. Her highest match only reaches the 80s. Brenna is proud of me and wants to show my results off to anyone willing to look. More than once I try to snatch my packet back from her tight grip as we sit at a long lunch table with a number of her friends.

My closest friend, Sophia, has two matches who have nearly identical numbers. So that means the Capitol will have to weigh all the aspects before making their decision on who shall be her best match. I smile reassuringly at her as we walk to our history course with our packets. Our professor has requested that we all bring them so that she can discuss the districts that each of our matches hail from.

Several people have matches from District 12. When the discussion turns to the mountainous region I listen intently. Of course we learned about the districts when we were growing up, but the textbooks are only filled with factual information. My classmates and professor have the non-textbook information, the true look and feel of the actual place. Sophia's mother was a native of the district and she explains what she knows to the class in a clear soft voice.

"My mother always sings me beautiful mountain songs. She tells me about the forest that surrounds everything for miles, farther than the eyes can see. The mountains are big and sprinkled in trees of many kinds. And there are two halves to the district. The people who work in the mine generally live in the half called the Seam, while the people who work in town live in the Merchant Quarter. My mother lived in the Seam. Her father was a coal miner and her mother was a seamstress. She says that coal dust permeates everything, coating the district in never ending blackness. It isn't all bad though. She knows a lot of dances that you do with a fiddle and banjo," Sophia smiles at me as she ends her explanation of the district.

I fight the faint blush that threatens to appear across my face. Will Gale Hawthorne teach me how to do the dances of his district? I feel as though I would embarrass myself profusely by attempting to dance. My mind sifts through all the information I know about my future district. Just the thought of seeing the surrounding forest is enough to send a jolt through me.

Someday I will tell my children the same thing my mother tells me, ' _I couldn't have been sent to a more different place than the one I came from'._

* * *

It has been nearly two weeks since I completed my skills assessment for the final time and three weeks since I learned about my potential contract partners. As I walk home with my siblings we are greeted by the sight of my mother waving at us from the wide porch.

She is beaming broadly, clasping a large yellow envelope in her right hand. My stomach plummets at the sight of it. When he sets eyes on it, Tomik immediately grasps by hand and squeezes it lightly. Brenna and Bronwyn race toward our mother, laughing. With Tomik at my side I take my time, savoring the soft pressure of his small hand. Whenever I feel fearful or distressed all I need is Tomik's presence to sooth me.

"Are you scared?" He asks me as we cross the yard.

I squeeze his hand more firmly and shake my head no, even though in reality I am truly scared. This is the moment that will seal my fate forever. I don't want to frighten my gentle little brother. I drop my bag softly into the grass when my mother hands the envelope to me. Tomik grips the sleeve of my shirt as I slowly break the seal on the envelope. My mother and sisters sit on the steps of the porch, watching my expression with unblinking eyes. With one deep breath I finally pull my fate from within.

Again the cover letter bears the Capitol seal. This time however, the accompanying note is rather long. It details what is expected of me and the procedures I will take in order to fill my contract. I skim the descriptions quickly and swallow thickly.

"Well?" Brenna demands impatiently. I feel so unbelievably frightened. Tomik's small frame is quivering beside me. I wrap my free arm around him, pressing his body against mine.

"Help me turn the page?" I ask him in the gentlest tone I can muster. He nods and slips his small hand under the flap. His pale fingers push the parchment aside and reveal the fate that I am destined to.

Gale Hawthorne's face is plastered on the top right corner of the page. On the left corner, my own smiling face appears. For a moment I feel a wave of shock and then immediate relief. I had expected this outcome and now I know that it is true. I examine my picture for a moment. It is probably the best I have ever looked. Beneath our pictures is the surname Hawthorne in bold black letters. The column on my side of the page details my status. Arwen Briony Hawthorne, 18 years, Healer – District 12, House #45 The Seam.

I smile deeply and squeeze Tomik more tightly to me. I didn't think I could dare to dream about becoming a healer. Here it is on paper, official. I have been deemed an asset to the Capitol and given the opportunity to help in the greatest of ways. Somehow the two of us fall to our knees in the grass. Brenna and Bronwyn rush forward to peer over our shoulders as I lay the papers in my lap. The second column details my husband's status. Gale Aspen Hawthorne, 18 years 4 months, Coal Miner: Explosives Expert – District 12, House #45 The Seam.

"A healer, oh Arwen that's amazing!" Bronwyn exclaims as she hugs me from behind.

"I knew he was the one, the moment I saw him, I just knew it. Arwen your children will be so beautiful. Mama look!" Brenna squeals with excitement as she grasps my free hand. She presses a kiss to the back of my hand before she clutches it to her chest.

"It's a lovely match and I am proud of your vocation too, your father will be so pleased. He was really rooting for you to get it," mother coos as she presses my face between her palms and kisses my forehead.

The loud fuss summons Nana and Papa from their house. Both are pleased with the results. Nana talks about Gale's eyes for what feels like the thousandth time. She will never meet the man, but someday I will have to tell him that he has made a lasting impression on her. Papa pretends that it makes him jealous.

Through my families encouraging smiles and heightened excitement I nearly feel faint, but Tomik brings me back to a steady place. "What if he blows himself up?" Tomik asks quietly, his eyebrows knit together with concern.

"He'll learn how to properly do his job, don't worry tumbleweed," I assure him. He bites his bottom lip and stares off for a moment over the wide expanse of waving wheat.

"Tell him he can't leave you. He's got to protect you for me, I don't want the Sasquatch to get you in that big forest," Tomik's words are so soft I barely hear them. I fold both of my arms around him, crushing his frame against me. He hugs me back just as tightly. I rock him in the breeze and pet his hair down with my hand. I let one single tear slide down my cheek.

"Tomik, I'll be safe from the Sasquatch. Don't worry about me. I need you to promise me something instead. I need you to watch over the farm and do as Mama and Daddy say. Always be a good boy. Help Nana around the house and keep Papa company," my voice comes out more strangled than I intend it to as several more tears flow from my eyes.

"Can you do that for me?" I pull back and peer into his glassy green eyes, "I love you, don't ever forget that." Tomik nods furiously through his tears. My mother places her arms around both of us, followed by Nana. Then Brenna and Bronwyn both engulf us, their bronze faces wet with shimmering tears. Papa stands to the side watching us with a solemn face. I smile at him softly as I shed one last tear.

* * *

On September 1st my mother rises early to help me pack a small suitcase with my belongings. After I slip into the nicest dress I own and step into new soft leather shoes, my mother hugs me fiercely. She thumbs the golden mockingjay necklace before pressing a kiss to my cheek. I am using the same luggage that my mother used when she moved here from District 7 so many years ago. I watch her sadly when she runs her thin fingers along the edges of it and sighs deeply.

My sisters sit silently on their bed, watching me meticulously fold my dresses, pants, shirts, and undergarments. Mother begins to softly sing a mountain tune as she gingerly folds my items into the suitcase. She places a little framed picture of my family between the layers of clothing to protect it. In a small box she places a set of pearl earrings, a white kerchief, and a few coins. I try to protest the monetary gift, but my mother silences me. She stuffs the box inside the suitcase along with my boots. When the clasp is finally shut Brenna stands and embraces me.

"Let me fix this up for you," she says, combing her fingers through my long hair. I nod my consent and sit patiently on the bed as she intricately braids my hair. She slides her favorite hairpin into the side of her creation to keep some of the  
tendrils in place. Again, I want to protest the gift, but the loving expression on her face placates me. Bronwyn holds my hands in hers while Brenna finishes her design.

My mother dabs vanilla on her finger and spreads it behind my ears lightly. Bronwyn, my devilish prankster of a sister succumbs to tears as the finishing touches are made on my appearance. My heart feels heavy and torn. Brenna soon follows suit, crying lightly as she slides her arms around her twin.

A brief fear overcomes me as I realize that in three years time my sisters will have to be separated from each other forever. My beautiful identical sisters who have never slept apart, nor gone a single day without each other. They have a deeper sibling bond that I can't fathom being torn apart.

Father clears his throat in the doorway. I silently rise and allow him to fold me tightly in his arms. When father's youngest brother was sent out on his contract I was only an infant. I don't remember what it was like to tell someone goodbye forever. Father and Mother remember it all too clearly. They've both done it a number of times.

"You look beautiful," Father says as he holds me at arm's length, "I wish we could capture you in this moment forever." The heavy sensation in my heart only seems to grow more burdensome.

The four of us leave the house and find Tomik sitting with my grandparents in the shade of their porch. My Papa isn't well enough to make the two mile trip to town, so Nana will stay with him. It was decided just last night that they should watch over my brother as well. My mother thinks that the final goodbye at the train station will be too painful for him.

"Beautiful," Papa says as we approach. I smile graciously at him and allow him to kiss my hands. Nana smiles warmly, though I see the fear in her eyes.

"We love you," Nana says as she hugs me tightly, "Watching you grow has been a blessing." I nod and kiss her cheeks.

"Being able to have you both in my life is something that I will forever be grateful for," my voice cracks as the words spill forth. Finally, my eyes fall on Tomik. His tousled hair and freckled face are so boyish and pure. I gently caress his face and smile at him with all that I am.

"My little tumbleweed. I love you more than anything in the world. I will see you again someday, in the clouds," I kneel beside him and gesture toward the clear blue sky. On cloudy days Tomik and I would play a game where we designed shapes in the fluffy white clouds. A time that we spent, just the two of us. I press a kiss to his forehead and join my parents and sisters at the edge of the dirt road. They give me a moment to soak in my surroundings for the last time.

I let my eyes wander slowly over the land, the barn, and the farmhouses. With a curt nod I turn to my parents and wave one last time to Tomik.

* * *

_On this day, I vow that I will honor my country, provide children for whom I will devote my life, support my district, and cherish the gifts that the Capitol has provided. I will do everything I can for the good of Panem._

* * *


	2. Contract Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "On this day, I vow that I will honor my country, provide children for whom I will devote my life, support my district, and cherish the gifts that the Capitol has provided. I will do everything I can for the good of Panem."

As we travel down the road two tractors pass us, pulling large carts of manure to be spread on a section of the fields.  The Capitol's liquid manure smells terrible, but the cow dung shipped from District 11 has a sweet tinge to its odor.  It is silly, but I am almost pleased that it is the cow dung that passes us now.  I've always enjoyed the smell.  I'm sure if you asked anyone from the district what dung smells like, they'd probably list a number of things and sweet would be one of them.

Due to the sheer power needed to pull the carts, the tires on these tractors are almost as tall as my father.  The wide ridges of the tread dig shapes into the dirt road.  At the end of each day a machine called the tiller is driven down every access road to churn the dirt up so we don't have giant ruts in the ground where the tractors drive.  

A large dirt cloud billows up in the wind behind the envoy, clinging to my clothing and hair.  It fills my nostrils and eyes, but I'm smart enough to keep my mouth shut.  You would think that on Contract Day people wouldn't be working, but the Capitol deems production too important for it to halt even for a day.  The only workers granted leave from their assignments are those who have children being contracted.

All the fields in the district are assigned numbers.  At school there is a large map drawn on the wall that charts each one.  There are hundreds of plots.  A rotation system has been designed where every year a number of fields are left bare and nutrients are pumped into the soil by the plant geneticists who are sent from the Capitol.  Every year those strange Capitol trained scientists attempt to grow some new strain of the crop.  Crop rotation is important to keep the soil fertile, but when your district is slotted to only grow grain new alternatives must be provided.  

The Capitol plant geneticists have spawned specific traits in the wheat that gives it the best characteristics.  The domesticated wheat that we grow here has larger grains and seeds, called spikelets, which remain attached to the plant by a toughened rachis.  Citizens of the district talk about wild strains of the plant that have a more fragile rachis, which can easily be shattered and allow the spikelets to be spilled.  

I've never seen wild wheat.  The wheat we grow has improved greatly as a food source, or at least the government thinks so, but the loss of the natural seed distribution mechanism means that our wheat would never survive in the wild.  It's too highly domesticated.

The train station of District 9 is on the farthest edge of the village.  It's made of a large grey stone that is not natural to the land here.  As we cross the town square my mother weaves the fingers of her left hand into my right.  My father nods solemn hellos to passersby whether he knows them or not.  Brenna and Bronwyn walk silently behind us with their arms laced at the elbow.  The gravel beneath our shoes crunches in a pattering rhythm.  The air feels entirely too hot, even with the breeze.  

Ahead, a large crowd has formed at a series of tables.  Peacekeepers, dressed in pristine white uniforms, work quietly maintaining an efficient system as my classmates sign their contracts.  I notice the Head Peacekeeper standing at the far end of the square, watching the proceedings with a calculated expression.  He's new to the district.  I've only seen him three times since he arrived last month.  He has menacing eyes and it has been said that he isn't tolerant.

My family leads me to the nearest table.  Father places his palm on my back as he leans in to whisper something to my mother.  She nods seriously and takes my luggage bag.  She and my sisters join the family members cuing beside the tables.  Some people have hardened looks of sadness on their faces and others seem happy.  Contract Day has a reputation for invoking a wide array of emotions.  

My own feelings seem muddled like my mind isn't entirely sure what to think.  The strongest feeling is an all encompassing apprehension.  It is like a coiled copperhead snake churning inside the pit of my stomach and swiveling in the recesses of my mind, hissing questions like: Will my contract partner be a decent man?  Will he beat me?  Will he force himself on me?  Will I love him?

In our district it isn't seen often, but there are contract partners who don't get along.  Mr. and Mrs. Gordon, the couple who run the bakery in the village, are notorious for their public arguments.  Mrs. Gordon likes to throw her rolling pin at her husband and smack him with it, while Mr. Gordon likes to throw his fist or hot pans.  They smashed a window in their storefront once during a particularly nasty brawl.

Father's voice shakes me from my reverie, "Now listen Arwen, and listen good." He isn't looking at me as he speaks, attempting to keep attention away from us.  His voice is soft and low, so unlike his normal boisterous nature that it catches me off-guard.  I try to keep my eyes straight ahead, focused on the table where I will complete my official Capitol paperwork.

"There is a lot of unrest in other districts. It's different than here.  Like a completely different world," my father nods a hello to a man that passes with his son.  He licks his lips and rubs them together before he glances around us once more.

"I wasn't sure if I should mention it, but something tells me it is worse than I thought. The Head Peacekeeper has his gun out, you see…" father nods and looks down at the ground.  As steadily as I can manage I raise my eyes to watch the Head Peacekeeper for the briefest moment.  It's true; he has a large gun slung at his side, not resting on his back.  In our district some Peacekeepers don't even regularly wear their guns.  There are some things that make people upset of course, but never enough to warrant Peacekeeper action.

"Signing contracts is harmless and they've never brought weaponry before, it can only mean that they've had trouble elsewhere," he says as he presses me forward with his palm.  I hadn't realized that in my daze I wasn't moving up in line.

"You need to be smart. Always protect yourself. Promise me you won't seek out a rebellion if the opportunity arises," I inhale sharply at his whispered words.  He finally meets my eyes, pleading with me.

I nod shakily, "Yes Daddy, I promise." He nods and faces forward once more.  The matter is settled and he speaks nothing more of it.

My mind is muddled once more with thoughts of rebellion.  Is it truly possible that things are so bad in other districts?  I try to think of things that anger people here.  There are plenty of ways to get injured and unsafe working conditions are what anger people the most.  

Just while driving the combine harvester alone you can accrue a number of injuries such as: falling from the combine; being run over; being cut by any of the parts of the equipment like the stripper rotor, reel, knife, straw chopper, or spreader; and most of all becoming ill from the exposure to wheat dust.

Not to mention all the ways to become injured in the mill.  Now that I think of it, there is a lot to be angry about here.  There isn't a high rate of death, but losing a limb is considered normal.  My Papa's best friend had his arm ripped off in the mill.  All the Capitol cared about was that he had ruined that particular batch of flour.  I remember how frustrated Papa was, when he came home and threw his lunch pail against the side of the barn.  The loud clank had scared our horse and goat.

When I finally reach the table the female Peacekeeper asks for my documents.  I provide her with everything that she needs and watch her quickly read through my papers. She makes an "X" on three different pages where I must sign that I have read my requirements and agree to adhere to the laws of Panem.  She uses a large electronic pen to prick a measurement of blood from my finger and confirm that I am truly Arwen Southerland.  

I press my bloody fingerprint onto the final document beside my name.  The Peacekeeper folds my papers and tapes a sticker of the Capitol seal over the edges, binding them together.  Next, she presents me with a computerized pad for the official signing of my contract.  I glance at father quickly before I pick up the pen and slowly sign my new name, _Arwen Briony Hawthorne._

The screen solidifies my name to the document and my heart shivers in my chest when I see that _Gale Aspen Hawthorne_ has already been signed.  Somewhere out there, in District 12, he has already bound himself to me.  The woman hands me a key to one of the train compartments and a paper baggy filled with pamphlets.  I notice that my fingers shake as I grasp them from her.

"Congratulations Mrs. Hawthorne, you may now move to the visitor section to bid loved ones farewell.  Please keep in mind that all luggage should be stored appropriately within your designated compartment. Thank you, your service for the good of Panem is greatly appreciated," the woman's voice is dull as she recites the memorized congratulations to me.

Father rests his hand on my back as he leads me away.  My sisters are looking a little more chipper.  They both smile reassuringly at me as we approach.

"Did he sign it already?" Brenna asks, her expression one of barely concealed interest. I nod lightly.

"His handwriting is jagged, like Papa's," I muse as I take my luggage back from mother.  Father laughs softly as he thinks about my contracted husband's signature.  The four of us stand facing each other in silence for a few moments.  I let my eyes wash over their faces, memorizing every feature.  

I commit even the smallest things to memory.  They don't flinch at my scrutiny; rather they seem to be doing the same thing to me.

"When you look at the sun and the moon, when you look at the stars and planets, know that we are seeing the same thing. We will be with you always," my mother's voice is pained, but she doesn't shed any more tears.  She simply hugs me tightly.  Brenna and Bronwyn share twin smiles as they squeeze me between them.

"Arwen sandwhich!" They cheer.  It reminds me of the years we spent sharing a bed as children, before I got my own cot.  I allow myself to laugh heartily, because it releases some of the pent up tension.  When they unleash me and step away, my mother brings me aside for a moment alone.

"Be patient and kind. Don't be afraid to take charge of your own body. You are to share yourself with him, but he cannot just take what is rightfully yours.  Learn and know him first.  Be careful." I nod at her advice and remember our previous conversation about the consummation of the marriage.  Something that _will_ happen to me eventually, because I need to meet my quota and have four children.

 In order to do that I will have to know my husband in a way that makes me feel vulnerable just thinking about it.

When I had begun my genetic testing this past year I came home from school one day and found mother and Nana waiting for me.  They took me to the barn and the three of us sat in the hay loft drinking the malt liquor that can be brewed from the wheat.

"You're a young woman now, so you can drink like one," my mother had mused as she poured the awful liquid for me.  I was confused on why they were taking me to a private place and had blushed deeply when Nana told me I needed to know about the things they don't teach me in the mandatory health course.

"If you don't want to do it, it won't feel nice.  It'll hurt like something is ripping you from the inside out," Nana said as she took a long swallow of the amber liquid.  I blanched at the thought.

"Did Papa hurt you?" I felt ashamed to ask, scared to know why it hurt her.

"He didn't mean to.  He loved me.  It was me who didn't love him.  I knew he wanted to and so I did it, but I didn't feel ready. You have to want the person," She mused.  I bit my lip and peered at the two women of my life.

"You need to be attracted. You need to feel like you need him to fill a part of you. You know what I mean about that?" My mother asked.  I nodded, though I didn't have the slightest inclination of what she meant.  I wondered if I would ever feel empty enough to need someone to fill whatever void had opened within me.

"Your body needs that natural wetness to make things go easier. If you are attracted to him and allow yourself to feel that unabashed need, then it will be okay. What we really want to tell you is, get to know him. Don't just let him have you. You need to know him first, learn him, and love him. Otherwise, it is more pain and harm than good," Nana said.

I swallowed back more of the amber liquid and listened to them describe their first experiences with Papa and father.  It made me uncomfortable, but I learned more about what to expect than what the teachers told me in school.  The worst part was listening to Nana talk about her own mother's experience.

Apparently, Nana's father wasn't a terribly nice man. When her mother had been contracted to him he forced her to share his bed during her first night with him.  He forced her to do a lot of things that hurt her physically and mentally.  Nana said she needed to tell me, just in case, but that I shouldn't worry because her parents' relationship isn't common.  She said her father was a good man to the children, but he controlled his wife because he needed to feel powerful in some way.  It still hurts my heart thinking about it, even though I know that Nana's parents are probably long since dead.

I let the memory of blushes and hot liquor wash away from me and find myself focusing in on my mother’s face once more.  I see the tension in her eyes before she turns back to our group with a false cheer to her voice.  With that I attempt to shake all thoughts of marital beds from my mind.

I kiss each of my family member's cheeks before I step back and appraise them a final time. The whistle on the train blows to announce that departure will commence shortly.  I walk toward the entrance to my assigned train car and don't look back.  Only when I have finally found my compartment do I allow myself to take one final look at my home.  I regret it immediately, because the feeling it invokes is the worst of all.  I feel as though my gut has fallen right out of my body, flopping helplessly on the carpeted floor.

I watch my family leave the platform, from the window in my compartment.  Father has his arm wrapped tightly around mother's waist, as he ushers her away.  My sisters keep glancing back at the train over their shoulders.  I watch them until they disappear from sight.  My eyes prickle with pain from lack of blinking.  My throat feels exceptionally tight as I try to swallow back my emotions.   Forcing myself away from the vision of my district, I turn toward my surroundings.

My train compartment has two bunks, a large mirror, and a tiny enclosed bathroom.  I've never washed in a shower before.  In District 9 there are probably only showers in the Peacekeeper barracks and the Mayor’s home, though no one has ever spoken about them.  Our home had one small toilet and baths were taken in a large basin of water from the pump outside.  Baths were only taken twice a week.  The rest of the week we all washed ourselves with bars of soap and washcloths.  Just a quick cleaning at the beginning and end of each day.  

I secure my luggage beneath the bottom bunk just as the door to the compartment unlocks a second time.  A genuine smile graces my face when I realize that Sophie will be sharing a compartment with me.  She looks beautiful.  Her hair is twisted elegantly on her head and her face is flushed from the heat.

"Oh, Arwen! Hello, how wonderful that we can share with each other one last night." Sophie laughs as she sets her luggage on the floor and quietly closes the door to our compartment.  She is always so prim and proper, it makes my insides warm.  

I laugh with her and help her secure her own luggage beneath the bunk.  We stand side by side, staring out the window for a long time.  When the rolling fields of wheat begin to fade and the fence that marks the boundary of our district comes into view we both sit quietly on the bottom bunk.  Sophie picks at the hem of her new dress and releases another short laugh.

"They had some trouble choosing from those two boys. They ended up assigning me to the one from District 3.  Do you remember?  He had that deep tan in the picture. Well, anyway they assigned us to District 2.  It feels strange to think that I will be living so close to the Capitol," Sophie says without looking at me.

"When we arrive in District 3, we will be picking him up.  I'll spend my first night with him on this train. I guess we'll be assigned a different compartment once you've gotten off in 12," I can sense the fear in her voice.  The fear that she will soon be sharing private quarters with a man she doesn't know.  

I place my hand gently on her arm.  Our eyes meet for the briefest moment and I notice for the first time that Sophie's eyes are a light grey, not unlike the silver of my husband. Two thoughts float in my mind after I notice.  Firstly, that I have already categorized this unknown man as _my husband_ , though I suppose that is how I have been trained to think.  Secondly, that Gale must be from one of the original genetic lines from his home district.  Original lines are regarded with respect in the districts; their genetic markers have strong characteristics.

After a time of silence and contemplation, Sophie and I open the paper bags filled with pamphlets.  We each have a pamphlet that discusses the rules and regulations of our new home district.  Sophie reads me a pamphlet on her vocational assignment.  She will be a seamstress.

She encourages me to read my pamphlet about being a healer aloud. I will be the apprentice to Healer Everdeen in the Seam.  I read briefly about my apprenticeship and Sophie excitedly listens.  We both have pamphlets on being caregivers to our family unit with various pamphlets on proper house cleaning and other silly things.

At dinner time we have already passed through two districts, dropping off some people and picking up others in their wake.  Sophie and I eat with several classmates.  Everyone is quieter than usual, contemplative.  We try all sorts of foods from the various districts. Sophie is partial to the bread of District 7 and I am pleased with the chocolate drink from the Capitol.  

We retire to our room after some quiet conversation with the others in the dining car.  Sophie and I both stare at the top bunk in trepidation before we "rock, paper, scissors" for who has to sleep up there. Naturally, I lose.

Sophie helps me climb up and apologizes that she isn't brave enough to sleep up high.  I press my body tightly against the wall, afraid that I will tumble off the bunk and break an arm.  For a long time, Sophie and I whisper to each other about life.  I cling to this last bit of home that we can share together. 

We hear the bells for two more districts before we drift to sleep.

 

I wake quickly and accidently knock my head on the ceiling of the compartment.  I curse under my breath and try to shimmy myself off the bunk, without breaking a limb.  My efforts serve in almost kicking Sophie in the face.

Thankfully, she was already awake and able to dodge my stray foot.  She laughs as I land unceremoniously on the floor, annoyed, but relatively unharmed.  I use the tiny bathroom first, because we will be arriving in District 12 within the hour. Sophie has to help me figure out how to run the shower, an adventure in itself. We laugh hysterically when it squirts us in the face.

When I stand alone in the hot stream I let the water cleanse my body, but I only dab it in my hair, trying to keep Brenna's masterpiece intact.  The steady beat of the water against my back relieves some of the tension that has settled into the expanse of muscles. 

After several minutes my fingers appear prune-like and feel slightly strange.  I slip on my best dress once more and Sophie helps adjust my tousled hair.  She smoothes the braids and curls with a wet cloth and re-pins Brenna's hairpiece with care.  I thank her.

She holds my hand as we sit on the bottom bunk once more, watching the landscape through the window. When large trees begin to dominate the view we both stand and watch everything pass us by. Though I have seen it in books, actually seeing the real thing with my own eyes is dreamlike.  How bizarre it must have been for my mother and Sophie's mother to come from districts like this and end up in the sloping fields of District 9, where the number of trees is less than the number of people.

"Wow, it is better than I dreamed," I whisper.

Sophie's mouth is slightly agape and her only response is a nod as she examines our surroundings. We pass a tall barbed fence when the bell announcing District 12 resounds in our compartment.  I watch with fascination as the wooded areas fade into a large town with rows of houses.  Children are waving from the streets, chasing after the train.

"My mother was right. It's beautiful, even with all the dust," Sophie laughs as she grins at me widely.  I nod and feel my entire body shake slightly as the train finally halts at the station. Seeing my distress, Sophie unlatches my luggage for me and wraps my fingers around the handle.  She hugs me tightly for the last time.

"Have a wonderful life, Soph. Watch me from the window?" I say as she pulls away.

She nods while she blinks back tears and opens our compartment door.  I feel immensely grateful that she is the last person to send me off, the last piece of home.  I clutch my luggage tightly in my fist and slide the grip of my other hand on the railing as I gingerly take the steps down.  I am the only girl who exits the train from District 9.  

A boy who I recognize from school steps off before me and the others who exit after us are from other districts.  As we step out of the way, a number of people climb onto the train.  The sunlight temporarily blinds me and I brace my eyes from the sun with my forearm as I blink white spots away.  A large burly Peacekeeper greets me with a firm handshake when I finally feel level headed enough to turn toward him.

"Welcome to District 12. Your surname and residence please." He pulls a clipboard from a nearby table. The others cue behind me.  My tongue feels glued to my mouth.  I swallow thickly and look at him with a strangled expression.  He simply stares back until I am able to shake the strange feeling and conjure my voice.

"Hawthorne, House #45 the Seam," I finally state.

The Peacekeeper nods as he checks my name on the list.  I return the key that was given to me for my compartment.  He hands me a house key and points me toward the visitor portion of the platform where he says _my husband_ is waiting.  My heart is beating so terribly fast in my chest that I feel faint as I walk shakily across the platform.

There are a lot of people milling about, interested in seeing the new arrivals.  I feel my face flush hotly as a number of eyes appraise me. The crowd is mostly silent; so that they can hear the new arrivals state their surnames.  I wonder if the people watching me know Gale.  Halfway across the platform I stop and turn toward the train as it begins to pull away.

For a moment I am frantic, because I don't know where Sophie's compartment is.  Finally, I see her waving and blowing kisses at me, her face streaming with tears.  I wave back and feel overwhelmed with emotion.  I drop my bag and foolishly start running after her compartment, making hand gestures at her, blowing silly kisses back.  I throw a "rock, paper, scissors" in there for good measure.  She laughs and shakes her head.  My new leather shoes snap harshly on the platform as I run all the way to the edge.  I wave one last time and slowly turn back to the crowd behind me.  A few people are laughing at me and I feel the hot blush once more.

 I slowly approach my luggage at the same time that a tall man walks toward it.  We both eventually stop mid step with just the luggage between us.

I feel my breath catch in my throat as I gasp loudly. _My husband_ , looks exactly like his photograph dark and handsome, but what I hadn't pictured before was his immense height.  My father and Papa are both tall men, but Gale Hawthorne must be at least 6 feet tall with several inches added to that.  If it is even possible, my heart is beating faster now than ever before.  We stare at each other for a moment, both unsure what to do or say.

I hear a little girl's voice off to the side, "Mommy is that her!" It never occurred to me that my _husband's_ family would still be here, silly of me not to realize it.  It should have been obvious since he stayed in his home district.  Gale clears his throat and visibly shakes himself as he leans to pick up my luggage.

"Welcome to District 12. I hope your travel was comfortable," I marvel at the deep quality of his voice, a rough baritone.  I watch as he straightens with my luggage in hand.  He's so tall and dark and everything the opposite of me.  I clear my throat as well and wipe the palms of my hands on my dress to rid them of sweat.

"Thank you, I enjoyed my travel. My dearest friend shared a compartment with me.  I was waving to her a moment ago. I'm sorry I didn't find you first." My face feels flushed for the third time as I explain my disrespectful actions.  He nods, accepting my words and peering off in the direction of the long gone train.

"Would you like to meet my family?" He asks in a quieter voice.  His face seems softer as he says it.  I nod shyly.

He turns and walks toward a group of people standing to the side.  It is immediately apparent that this group consists of his mother and siblings because they all have the same exact olive skin and black hair.  I follow him silently and watch as a small girl runs forward to grab his large hand.  She stares up at me with wide silver eyes as we walk to the remaining group.  I smile delicately at her, which causes her to break into a wide half toothless grin.

"This is my mother Hazelle, my brothers Rory and Vick…" He's cut off by the small girl, "And I'm Posy! I'm five years old." She tells me proudly as she swings her brother's arm back and forth.  I kneel beside her and take her free hand.

I shake it softly, "Five is a very big age for a girl. It is so lovely to meet you Posy." Her smile grows wider as she beams up at her brother.  I shake both Rory and Vick's hands next.  Both of them seem like mini replicas of their brother.  Finally, I turn to Hazelle.  She is a round faced woman with wide eyes and a beautiful smile. All these pleasantries were practically beaten into our heads when we started our coursework for contracts. _Be pleasant, be obedient, be the ideal partner._

"Hello. I'm Arwen, it is very nice to meet you. You have beautiful and polite children," my voice sounds more timid as I speak to her.  She smiles warmly back, but does not accept my offered handshake.

Instead she folds me to her chest in a warm hug.  For a moment I feel confused, but I let myself melt into her embrace. When she pulls back she cups my face in her hands. The gesture reminds me of my mother and I feel my eyes becoming glassy with unshed tears.  She presses a kiss to both of my cheeks and appraises my face for a moment.  I blush under her scrutiny and she smiles once more.

"I can tell that your insides are as stunning as your outsides, you'll fit in just fine dear," she finally announces as she releases me.  There is a group of women standing to the side of Hazelle. One of them is staring at me with a fierce expression.  Gale clears his throat and sweeps his hand toward them.  His eyes are on the fierce girls face as he speaks.

"This is Healer Everdeen and her daughters Katniss and Primrose," he explains as he gestures to both of them.  Healer Everdeen will be my teacher in my assigned vocation.  Her expression is open and kind.  I appraise her for a moment before my eyes fall once more on her elder daughter.  She looks more like Gale's family than she does her mother and sister.  

Healer Everdeen and her youngest daughter are both fair skinned, blond, and blue eyed. While Katniss has piercing silver eyes and dark hair. I can't remove my eyes from hers. I bite my lip apprehensively feeling confused as the dark girl finally swivels on her foot and runs toward the town.

"Catnip!" Gale yells after her, but remains at my side.

His facial expression is torn. With one glance at the Hawthornes and Everdeens I see that everyone looks uncomfortable.  I inhale sharply as I come to a bitter realization.  Katniss Everdeen was probably my husband's sweetheart.

 He's in love with her…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I obviously do not own the Hunger Games, all characters and situations designed by Suzanne Collins are her property.


	3. Husband and Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to Fnur, my beta! She's awesome.

Collectively, everyone seemed to expect this type of behavior from Katniss Everdeen. I was not fully prepared for it, but the expressions of the people standing in our group inform me that everyone else was.  Primrose turns to me and smiles softly.

“Sorry about Katniss, she isn’t good with new people. I’m Prim. It’s nice to meet you.”

The small girl seems entirely too put together for her age. I shake her pale hand and try to keep my blush from reappearing. I’ve never blushed so much in my life than on this day.  Her mother leans forward and attempts a smile, though her face is tense after the departure of her elder daughter.

Healer Everdeen has somewhat stern features, but her eyes are tired and friendly enough.  The open and kind expression she gave me moments ago was pleasant. She shakes my hand, “Welcome to District 12. I’m Poppy Everdeen. I’ll be your mentor. We’ll get started in two days time. I hope that you are ready for the adventure.” I nod and try to smile in return. The expression feels false though.  Hazelle coughs beside us and says that we should get going if we want to tour the district.

Gale unenthusiastically begins to lead the way down the platform with my luggage gripped tightly in his fist.  His tall figure looms over many of the people who are still milling about.  The train platform is made of a glossy wood that’s covered with dust.  It’s much larger than my own district’s. The far end seems to be some sort of loading dock, probably for coal, which is the main industry of District 12.  Seeing the workings of coal production might prove to be interesting. I’m sure I will appreciate learning about it when the time comes.

Gale weaves a path through a group of people chatting loudly near the stairs.  I murmur a soft apology to a woman who gives him a seething look.  Posy shoves past me as we reach the precarious looking steps.  She beckons Gale to hold her hand as she gingerly maneuvers them.  He grasps her tiny palm in his free hand and smiles down at her as she happily reaches the less treacherous ground below.  He doesn’t release her hand as they begin moving forward down the path.

As Hazelle and I traverse down the steps, the heel of my right shoe catches on a knot in the wood and I stumble forward.  My ankle twists sharply, making me hiss in pain.  Hazelle grips my arm to right me and laughs lightly. Her hand is worn and rough.

“Thank you,” I choke out as I try to quell the jump of my heart. She nods and I catch Gale’s gaze over her shoulder. I blush slightly with the knowledge that he will probably see my clumsy streak quite often.

Vick and Rory take the stairs two at a time and continue to fool around as we walk toward the town.  I wonder how old they are.  Rory seems lanky as though he is growing into his limbs, but his face is still boyish.  Vick seems to be around Tomik’s age with wiry, olive-toned arms.  Vick frowns as Rory ruffles his dark hair roughly. 

I watch their banter for a moment before setting my eyes on the town before us.  The houses that we reach first are lined with fences and scraggly bushes.  Some of these homes seem twice the size of my parent’s farm house.  They are painted in various shades of grey, blue, and brown.  The rusty bronze numbers marking their homes are tacked to the doorframes. 

The biggest house in my district belongs to the mayor. It’s a large white plantation home that has a long driveway lined with trees.  They are practically the only trees in my entire district, save a few that dot the fields here and there. Some of these houses seem half the size of the mayor’s home. They are all so big. Bigger than most of the farm houses back home.

Hazelle examines my wide-eyed expression and smiles, “This is where the Merchants live. Though some live in the town square over their shops.”

“That’s the mayor’s place on the right,” Gale says.  His face settles with a look of contempt as we pass it.  Large isn’t an accurate description, gigantic would be more precise. The windows stand at least 10 feet tall and it has three stories of them. 

“Before this became District 12, this was the home of the man who owned the mine. Or at least that’s what people believe,” Hazelle explains as we pause for a moment to peer up at the colossal building. A young woman with shiny blond hair is perched on a swing that sways from the side porch. She is reading a book as the toe of her shoe propels her swing back and forth. 

She looks up when Posy screams, “Hello Ms. Undersee!” The young woman smiles and waves. The Hawthornes wave back, except Gale who clears his throat and tugs Posy along the path.

“Madge is Mayor Undersee’s daughter. She’s a lovely girl, she tutors children after school. Posy gets some help with math,” Hazelle chats as we follow her brood further into town.

The houses are closer together here.  An open archway leads us onto a cobbled street that sweeps in a wide circle.  The shops here are made of brick and stone.  Some of the storefronts have signs and others have letters painted in the glass of their windows. This area is very similar to my town-square.  Gale halts at the base of a large granite statue that is the centerpiece of the bustling square. 

I shield my eyes from the sun as I peer up at it.  It depicts a man and woman kneeling together.  I walk around it to examine further and see that the couple is embracing a small child.  The faces of the family are carved intricately.  Nearby a pick axe and hardhat await the man, who is surely a miner.  The woman has a basket beside her; full with something that probably represents coal. The child smiles happily.  It’s a depiction of what the Capitol wants of this district; continuous production of their precious heat resource and an uninterrupted supply of children.  A plaque below the family reads, “Life and rebirth of a nation”. 

“Did you have one of these in District 9?” Gale asks. His presence startles me. I didn’t hear him approach.

“No. The Justice building is made of granite though. There is a poem carved into the steps there that talks about the children building the foundation of what will come.” Gale nods at my words simply before turning toward the shops around us. He points out some important locations such as the apothecary shop where I will purchase herbs for my healing vocation. He shows me the bakery, the flower shop, the shoe shop, the grocer’s, the metal-smith, and the clothing shop.

“What about the butcher?” I ask as my eyes fall on the last shop on the left. Gale pauses for a moment before he turns to me.

“Meat’s too expensive, so we won’t be there often. I’ll do the dealing,” he says. 

I concede his wishes and will never go there unless he bids me to.  As my husband he is the master of the house now and I will only go where he desires me to go. The thought makes my sick. I hope that he doesn’t demand things of me, like some sort of slave. I’ve heard about women being treated as such by their contract partners.

Hazelle shifts strangely beside me as though she is trying to avoid the subject of Gale dealing with the butcher, “Oh Gale, you forgot the Odair’s Furniture store. That’s the large building at the end of the block, Arwen. After you’ve saved up some money maybe you two can buy a nice sofa there.”

I follow Hazelle’s pointing gesture with my eyes. The building at the end of the block is indeed much larger than the other shops, but it needs to be if the furniture must fit inside. A tall man with shimmering red hair is sweeping the storefront there. My mind catches on Hazelle’s words about purchasing a sofa.

I hadn’t given much thought to what types of furniture and supplies the Capitol had provided us.  In school, we learned that each couple is given a mandatory amount of food and supplies to start them off, but couples who have more meaningful vocations often get extra bonuses. Perhaps the monetary gift that my mother tucked away in my luggage will help provide for some furniture or other household items.

“Well, that completes the tour of the Merchant Quarter,” Gale says as he swivels toward a dirtier path that leads the opposite way out of the village.

He grimaces as he begins to shepherd our group out of the square. The homes on this side seem smaller and more tightly packed.  The cobbled streets of the Merchant Quarter quickly yield to a dirt-crusted path.  The grey presence of coal dust seems to permeate this part of the district more heavily. Gale points to a darkened path about a half mile out that leads toward the mines. The tall trees shield the mine’s presence, but I can see the soaring smoke stacks and machinery over the treetops.

As we travel further out of the village, the houses appear more rickety and worn. This is where the miners live.  It reminds me of the portion of District 9 where the lowliest field hands reside in shacks. These homes are bigger than those, but the ambience is the same. Run-down and depressing. When we reach a group of kids playing kickball, Rory and Vick plead with their mother to join the game. She allows it, but reminds them to be home on time for supper.

The street forms a “Y” that breaks off into multiple squared off rows of houses. Most of the homes look identical, save a few characteristic differences like blue shutters here, or a rose bush there. When we reach the division Hazelle grasps Posy’s hand and smiles at me warmly.

“Well, this is where we part. Let me know if you need anything,” Hazelle warmly reminds me that she is here to support me. I flush slightly and nod.  What luck it is to have such a fortunate situation as a family connection.  Some people are contracted to each other and both sent to districts where they have no connection. Being alone and only having each other to rely on is a daunting thought. My fortune to have Gale’s family is truly a blessing.

“Will I see you tomorrow?” Posy asks us, her delicate features saddened by our parting. She looks positively torn to spend a night without Gale.

Gale smiles at his small sister, “Rory knows all the bedtime stories now, Pose-nose. He’ll be able to do them for you.” Gale’s assurance seems to set her at ease.  She murmurs a soft goodbye and allows her mother to pull her down the road that turns to the right.  Gale clears his throat as he watches them go.

“Since my father died, I always tuck her in at night,” Gale tells me softly. My heart skips a little at the thought of him being the father in her life.

“I’m sorry about your father. Was that recently?” As I ask, Gale pierces me with his silver hued eyes. He blinks for a moment and shakes his head.

“No, Ma was still pregnant with Posy when it happened.” Gale finally begins to walk down the road to the left. I follow him quietly as I allow him another opportunity to speak.

“It was a mine explosion. An accident that killed a lot of miners, my father and Mr. Everdeen included.  Healer Everdeen was forced to remarry after that,” he continues as we walk side by side.

We pass a contract couple entering their house for the first time. The man whistles lowly as he ushers his wife through the doorway with their luggage. Gale and I both turn our eyes away from them and meet each other’s gaze. I try to swallow a lump that is forming in my throat. Gale looks down at the dirt path as we walk further.

“She was re-contracted to the town drunk. He’d lost his wife to fever a month before. He had one son from his previous marriage, so between the two of them they had three kids. The Capitol didn’t care though, they still want them to have a fourth child to meet quota. It’s been five years and they haven’t had one yet. Katniss worries that her mother is getting too old.” The thought of them possibly having been in love with their own spouses before is sad. I wonder if Healer Everdeen loves her new husband.

Gale slows as we begin to reach the end of the road.  I look up and notice the large forest before us. I gasp and take a few steps toward it. It’s even more beautiful and mysterious up close. The sheer height of the trees is mind-bending. They are taller than most buildings in this district and my own district as well.

“My mother was from District 7. Whenever she told us stories about forests they always seemed so unreal and mystical. She was right though, it’s all very beautiful.” I try to soak in the vast expanse before us. The colors of the leaves and the sway of the branches in the breeze, reminds me of rolling wheat.

I stand for a long while just staring into the tree line until finally Gale’s body heat disappears from my side.  I turn toward him and see that he has approached the last house on the block, “I’m just going to take your things inside.”

Our assigned home is on the corner nearest to the forest.  I watch his back retreat into the doorway.  Our house is modest like the rest of the homes in the Seam, but it seems to have a large yard and a little stone path to the front door.  I tentatively walk toward it.  _This is it_ , I tell myself, _from now on this is my home_.  I stand outside the door trying to steel my nerves, but the feelings inside me don’t seem to ebb away.  Gale left the door ajar for me.  I make my way onto the small porch and push the door open lightly. 

The house has a hallway extending down the middle of it with a large archway on the left and several closed doors on the right. The entryway has a small alcove for coats and boots.  Gale has a thick coat hung on the first wooden hook. I gingerly remove my sweater and hang it on the next hook.  On the ground, Gale has placed a pair of boots next to a wooden box that doubles as a bench. He must still be wearing his dress shoes. I release a shaky breath as I peer down the hall where I hear Gale rustling around through the open door at the end.  I venture through the archway on the left.

The large room seems to be multi-functional. One side is devoted to a kitchen area and the other side seems to be some sort of living area, much like my own home. The kitchen has a black coal stove. The large belly of it has a door with a strange spiral handle. The top surface is flat with areas for cooking and a compartment on the right appears to be an oven for baking. The stove probably heats the whole house. It seems big enough to, at least. I lift the lid of the crate beside the stove and discover that it is filled to the brim with coal. I wonder if miners get it for free or whether they must pay the company with their earnings.

A water pump and a large basin sink are nestled in a countertop beside the stove. I run my fingers over the smooth surface. There is a series of cabinets on the left side of the sink and an icebox between them.  It is small inside, but already has multiple food items packed neatly within it.  I feel Gale’s presence behind me and turn to see him leaning against the frame of the archway, watching me.  He clears his throat, which must be a habit; he’s done it so much today.

“I moved in yesterday, so they issued some of the supplies already. Standard set of silverware and dishes, food, the kitchen table and chairs. There isn’t much to furnish the place.”

He chews the inside of his cheek for a moment and nods his head back over his shoulder as though he wants to show me the rest.  I follow him back into the hall where he proceeds to open the first door. It’s a closet lined with shelves. The second door is a small bedroom. It’s completely empty except for a box of Gale’s belongings.

“I need to finish unpacking,” he confirms as he shuts the door and leads me to the third room. 

My heart immediately drops into the pit of my stomach when I realize there is only one place to sleep in this entire house. The rear room is much larger than the other bedroom.  It has a big bed and a single dresser.  Gale makes a sweeping gesture with his palm that is a little more grand than necessary. He means for it to be sarcastic, but it only makes my heart more agitated. My luggage rests on the quilted blanket of the bed. I step forward and rest my palms on it for a moment before I speak.

“I could unpack now, if that’s alright,” I look to him for an answer. He nods and points toward a door in the corner that I hadn’t noticed before.

“There’s a closet in here and the dresser has room still. Do you need anything else?” His face is still calm, as if being here in our shared room isn’t strange and agonizingly scary. As if he isn’t thinking about our sleeping arrangements for the night.

I nod and bite my lip, “Is there a bathroom?” Gale smirks and walks towards the window that faces the back yard.

I notice that there are two windows in our room. One has a view of the forest and the other yields to the backyard and the neighboring house. Gale points toward a little brown shack in the middle of the space between our house and the neighbor’s.  I wrinkle my forehead in confusion, unsure what he means. He leans back and tries to stifle a laugh.

“We’ve got an outhouse that we share with two other families. You go there to do your business,” he smirks knowingly at me once more. 

Having to go outside to use the bathroom is strange. Though I suppose if I think about it, it isn’t any stranger than the portable bathrooms that are used in the fields when you work in District 9. I grip the windowsill and peer in all directions, looking at the backyard.  Just as Gale said, a neighbor emerges from the outhouse after a minute, zipping his pants as he walks across the lawn.

“Well, I’ve got some meat to be cleaned and prepared if we want to have an actual meal tonight,” Gale says as he starts out toward the hallway. For a moment I think about the weird attitude he got when we discussed the butcher shop earlier. I follow him into the kitchen where he pulls a wrapped package from the icebox. I mentally kick myself for not thinking of my household duties before thinking of myself. They taught us to always yield to your duties as a wife and mother first.  I can’t believe I’m already messing up.

“I’m sorry, I wasn’t thinking straight. I’ll prepare the meat first and start our meal before I unpack,” I feel the twinge of heat spreading across my face for my own stupidity. Gale looks at me strangely before he laughs.

“No, that’s fine. I’ve got it. You go unpack.”

He rolls up his sleeves and grabs a leather bag that I didn’t notice before. I watch him dumbly as he heads out the door, “I’ll be back in a minute.”

I stand in the hall for a few minutes trying to get my bearings. I feel as though this new world and life is unreal already.  I wonder what my family is doing at this very moment.  In a daze, I enter our bedroom to begin unpacking my belongings. Now alone in the room, I allow myself to release the false air of confidence and happiness I was attempting to have earlier.  I dread opening my luggage, but I must begin to acclimate myself to this new life. 

I open the drawers to the dresser to discover that Gale has left all the top drawers empty for me.  The bottom drawers are filled with his clothing and a leather pouch that I don’t dare to look in.  I quickly snap that drawer shut and return to my luggage. With a reverence for my past life, I softly place each item out on the bed. I put my boots in the bottom of the closet. It is bare, but for a pickaxe leaning against the inside wall and a miner’s uniform hanging on the right side.

I hastily hang my dresses and a few shirts in the closet, before shutting the door to hide the menacing pickaxe. Something about the tool fills my heart with a clenching feeling.  Perhaps it was the story that Gale so nonchalantly told of his father dying in the depths of the earth.  Tomik would probably cry if he knew. He was so convinced that Gale himself would be blown up. I grit my teeth at the thought and return to the pile of clothes on the bed.

I place the remainder of my clothing in the top two drawers, along with the small box that contains the pearl earrings, white kerchief, and coins. Lastly, I pick up the little framed picture of my family.  I sit on the edge of the bed and stare at the faces of my old life.  This picture is old, so Tomik is no more than four or five. My sisters look very young as well, but still virtually the same. I am standing behind them, with a hand pressed to each of their shoulders. My parents flank the four of us on either side, both smiling broadly. 

The vision of them fills me with so much love and sadness that the thin veil covering my emotions is blown aside. I press my fist into my lips to stifle the onslaught of cries as tears stream down my cheeks. My other hand presses the picture tightly to my chest as I allow the sensation of release to overcome me. My lips continue a whispered phrase, “I’ll never see you again. I love you, I love you.” It is a continuous mantra that dies after a short time when my tears finally cease.

I wipe my tired face on the edge of my dress and clear my throat as I stand.  I place the frame on the dresser and turn toward the window. Gale is sitting in the grass behind the house. He seems to be surrounded by fur and piles of meat.  His fingers are slightly tinged with something I can’t quite identify.  He has a large knife in one hand and some sort of hairy animal in the other.  I gasp aloud when he slides the knife beneath the fur and begins to skin the brown fur off the meat. 

I stare transfixed as he cleans the meat, slicing the belly open to pull the entrails out.  His hands quickly stain a crimson shade with the animal’s blood, which helps me realize why his fingers seemed tainted before.  He places the entrails in a tin pail that rests at his side.  I watch as he wipes the hide of the animal clean with a cloth and stretches it over some woven sticks to dry.  He wraps the meat in the white packaging paper that I saw him with before he left the house. 

When he rises, I busy myself with straightening the clothing in my drawer.  I try to erase the images that I’ve just seen. The meat I’m used to eating is usually cut and cleaned already by the butcher. I wonder if this is what Gale was trying to keep from me. He didn’t want me to do the dirty work of cleaning an animal myself. I feel a sense of relief that he’s willing to do such things.

As Gale reenters the house the door clicks loudly shut behind him.  I come to the kitchen area to see what help I can provide.  He smiles slightly when I come beside him, but gestures for me to move aside.  I watch him produce a pan from one of the cupboards and begin to prepare the meat.  That particular cupboard is bare except for the pan and a mixing bowl. As I peer into some of the other cupboards I discover that the Capitol has provided us with four plates, bowls, knives, forks, and spoons. There are no glasses or cups. I note that between the two of us we have very few possessions.

I watch Gale wash his hands and forearms clean of the blood. He uses a rough bar of soap, when he sees me watching he speaks once more.

“My ma runs the laundry business in the Seam. She’s the one who makes this soap.” I nod and continue to examine the cupboards, trying to busy myself while he prepares the meat.

Gale salts the meat before placing it in the frying pan on top of the stove. I watch him use a small shovel to scoop coal into the broad belly of the metal beast.  I decide to set the table as Gale cooks in silence.  So far, Gale is much like the type of man that my Papa is; silent, unless it is necessary to talk. I arrange the silverware and dishes across from each other on the wooden table top.  There is a circular burn in the middle of the table where someone had once probably placed a hot pot.  I rim the dark mark with my finger absentmindedly.

“There’s a brick of cheese made from Prim’s goat’s milk in the icebox. We can have that too,” Gale says without turning to me. I retrieve the small square of cheese and a loaf of stiff bread to spread it on.  I wonder briefly if Primrose’s goat is similar to the goat that stays in our barn.

“Do a lot of people have animals like Prim?” I ask as I place the cheese and bread in the center of the table.

Gale turns to hand me the bloody knife that he used earlier. I wince before washing it. One of the edges of the blade is jagged. I slice three pieces off the loaf before rewrapping it and placing it back in the icebox.

“Well, a lot of the Merchants have animals. The baker has pigs and the florist has some chickens. Not many Seam-folk have animals though,” Gale says as he works a spatula through the pan. The constant sizzle of the pan is the only noise for several minutes as I sit patiently at the table.

“I guess Prim is special with healing things. She’ll be like her mother someday,” Gale breaks the silence. His expression has softened slightly. The Everdeens mean a lot to him. He holds them dearly to his heart just as he does his own family.

I wonder if this was the way it always was, or if he only developed that love from being with Katniss. The thought of her makes my skin crawl slightly. I don’t want to be the thing that has come between them. If that girl loves Gale, I don’t want to keep that from her.

Yet, every lesson I’ve been told in school and in life said that you should never place your heart with another until you are contracted.  What if they were meant to be together?  Just because the Capitol says that my genetics match his, doesn’t mean that my heart and his will find each other too.  The whole idea of this consumes me with dissension. I don’t want to hurt the only people I have ties to here.

Gale breaks me from my reverie by bringing the hot pan to the table and divvying the meat between our two plates. He grimaces slightly at the sight of it and I get the impression that this is more food than he typically allows himself to consume.  We begin to eat our dinner in silence. I give him two of the bread slices and keep the third for myself. We both spread the cheese generously over our bread. 

I have a hard time looking him in the face after the thoughts of Katniss have resurfaced.  I allow myself to notice other things about him though.  Such as the way his hands are rough, cracked, and calloused.  I wonder what type of labor assignment he was given during school. Nana had spoken about the curve of his shoulders, how they had looked set with muscle from work.  Gale’s hands are wide, with long thick fingers.  His arms are a rusty olive-toned tan. 

Gale chews loudly as he eats and examines my face. I try not to blush under his scrutiny.  He keeps staring at my mockingjay necklace. It makes me fiddle with it nervously.

“That’s nice. You didn’t wear that in your picture,” Gale says as he swallows another mouthful of the tangy meat and nods toward the bird dangling from my neck.  I flush at the thought of him examining my picture thoroughly. I look down at the delicate chain for a moment and examine it myself. I smile and allow myself to finally look him in the eye.

“My birthday was a few weeks ago, my family saved up for a long while and bought it for me. It’s a mockingjay.” He leans forward and reaches across the table. I blush as he fingers the necklace gently, admiring it. The smell of meat and something else wafts from his skin. I notice it just before he releases the chain and drops his hand to the tabletop.

“There are mockingjays here. Maybe you’ll see one soon,” Gale nods as he looks back down at his plate. I release a breath that had caught up in my throat as he examined the necklace. I force myself to push another forkful of meat into my lips. I chew for a moment before I get the nerve to respond with a nicety.

“That would be lovely. I’ve never heard one sing before. I heard that they will follow the tunes that people produce.” Gale grimaces and I’m not sure why.  He nods in agreement that they do indeed copy humans, but he continues to have a stony visage.  I try to ignore it and finish my meal.

After some time, we both finish eating. I wait for Gale to rise before I begin removing the dishes. I know that I will need to boil water to wash the dishes, so I retrieve the metal mixing bowl I had seen earlier.  Gale retreats to the spare room to rummage through his box of belongings. I work the pump for several moments before water begins to pour into the metal mixing bowl, then set the pot on the stove to boil.

Gale emerges with an item wrapped in a faded dishcloth.  We stare at each other for a moment and I realize that he is presenting me with my wedding gift.  It is customary of contract partners to present each other with gifts. The nature of a contract partner’s gift can sometimes indicate the type of person they are.  Gale nods toward the table indicating that I should sit down.  I clasp my hands together in my lap as he sets the gift between us.

“I haven’t been able to get your gift yet,” I say sheepishly. He just nods and chews on the inside of his cheek.

He eyes me warily; his expression exhibits a feeling of uncertainty. With quaking fingers, I untie the ribbon that he has fastened around the cloth. A clinking sound meets my ears as the cloth falls away.  He has given me a small box of vials and tools for my healer vocation. I look him straight in the eyes as I thank him profusely. He rubs his right hand across the back of his head as he exhales.

His voice is gruff as he speaks, “You’re welcome. Healer Everdeen and her daughters helped me pick them out for you.” I nod and examine the vials further. There are all sorts of creams and medicinal concoctions. I read the label on one of the small jars, it contains mandrake root.

“I’ve read about mandrake root, but I haven’t seen it before. Thank you, really. This must have been expensive,” I breathe out. Gale furrows his brow and shakes his head as if it was no trouble at all.

“We’ll be providing for each other in every way that we can. It was no trouble to do this for you.”

He says the words, but I can sense that he doesn’t feel them entirely. It is also customary to assure your new partner that you are devoted to them and to the country. I nod and look down at the grain of the wood on the table. He’s only doing what he is supposed to do.

“I promise that I will abide by that oath. I’m sorry that I don’t have a gift for you tonight,” I whisper back.

The sharp bubbling noise of the water boiling on the stove alerts me that I have waited too long. I use the dishcloth and an oven mitt to carry the boiling pot of water back to the basin sink. Gale rises to put a plug in the drain. I pour the contents into the basin, careful to pour it away from my face. Steam billows up as the water fills the white sink bowl.

“Why don’t you go unpack some more while I wash these up,” I say to Gale without looking toward him. He murmurs his agreement and leaves the room.

Once he is gone, I slip the dirty dishes into the hot water and let them soak.  I allow myself to release a heavy sigh as I turn back to the gift he presented me with.  Gale is a good man, I can tell already. He loves his family, he is quiet but he is steady in nature.  I hope that we can become friends.  I feel as though we can.  Then perhaps someday we can fill the duty that we have to our country. 

As I stand over the sink and watch the steam float in the air, I feel the heat of it permeating my face.  The sensation is lovely in its simplicity. As I relax and wait for the water to cool enough for my hands, I ponder tomorrow’s Ceremony. The Recitation of Vows Ceremony takes place one day after Contract Day and involves all contracted couples being presented to the nation. All vocations and any notable characteristics about the couple will be announced to the entire country.

When the water cools enough for me to slip my hands in, I begin to wash the dirty dishes. I use a cloth and the soap that Gale’s mother has provided us. The activity keeps my mind entertained. Gale brings some of his belongings to the kitchen, a few towels and a set of knives. I hear him rummaging in our room for several minutes and then he is quiet again for a little while. After some time Gale returns to the table to read his pamphlet packets regarding his vocation. We sit in silence with the soft plopping sounds of water filling the void. I use the hand towel that he brought out to dry the dishes before I return them to their rightful places.

Rather than deal with the fact that I will soon be sharing a bed with this man, I decide to continue cleaning. I use the dishtowel to wipe al the surfaces in the room, cleaning them extensively. There is more coal dust than I thought.  Gale watches me over the edge of his pamphlets.  I try to ignore him as I begin to wipe the window sills. The sun has almost set in the sky. I find myself distracted by the glimpses I have of the woods.  I wonder if the fence lines are very close to them.  I can’t quite see them, but they must be nearby.  

“So, what does your vocation entail?” I ask as I wipe the tabletop in front of Gale. He smirks and raises his eyebrows as he holds his papers up for me to clean beneath him.

“Explosive experts blast rock formations so that tunnels can be formed further down or in new directions. I will be doing regular mine work most of the time though. They’ve made a lot of tunnels already down there. You can’t get too many or it will cause a collapse. There’s talk that they may try to make a mine shaft further out toward the woods though.” I nod at his explanation, slightly thankful that exploding things won’t be a daily activity for him.

“I’m a little nervous about starting with Healer Everdeen,” I say as I finish wiping the tabletop.

“Don’t be. She’s a smart woman; she’ll have a lot to teach you,” he immediately declares.

The Healer vocation is one of the top jobs within any district. You are important to the health of the citizens. There are typically at least four or five healers within a district. Healer Everdeen and I will be in charge of the Seam, while Healer Gordon and Healer Wexler will be working mostly in the village.

I will be subject to four years of daily education. Over the next four years, I will learn everything from anatomy and physiology to medicine assembly. I will see patients alongside Healer Everdeen and eventually be allowed to work on my own after I have completed the mandatory education. If you receive the best education that you can, you will be ready to work alone with patients after six to seven years of service. Gale must be familiar with the stipulations of my vocation because he doesn’t ask about it.

Eventually, Gale and I cannot stall any longer. He stands, awkwardly stuffing his hands into his pockets as I yawn for the third time.  He gestures for me to enter the bedroom first, but I shake my head softly.

“I think I am going to try to use the outhouse. I’ll be back in a few moments,” I say as I slip into my shoes and sweater at the door.

Gale laughs and tells me not to ‘fall in’ as I close the front door behind me. I wonder what he means about me, ‘falling in’. I trudge toward the outhouse in the dark. The little brown shack emanates a strange odor.  I knock on the door when it doesn’t open and a little boy shouts back, “In a minute!” I sigh and stand back a few paces waiting my turn.  My bladder feels fit to burst, but the little boy finally emerges with a sheepish grin after a few minutes.

“I’d wait if I were you,” He laughs as he skips back toward his own home.

I take a few tentative steps toward the outhouse and discover that it smells horrific. I plug my nose and lock myself in the cramped dark space. I have a hard time fumbling with my dress and stockings. Eventually I free myself and look down into the dark hole beneath me. _I see what Gale meant about falling in…_

I hold my breath against the putrid stink and relieve myself. Hurriedly, I slip my clothing back into place and exit as quickly as possible. I release a large breath of air from my lungs as I explode out of the confined space. I’ll have to get used to this public form of horror. As I return to the house, I see that Gale has extinguished the oil lamps in the living area. I remove my outerwear and head toward the beam of light emanating from our bedroom.  Gale is standing at the dresser wearing a matching set of flannel pajamas. One of the oil lamps from the living area is perched on the dresser. He is examining the picture of my family in the soft light.

“Your family looks nice,” he says as he fingers the frame.

“Yeah, they are. That was taken about five or six years ago. They look different now,” I say as I stand stiffly beside the bed. Gale smiles as he examines their faces some more.

I tentatively approach and peer at the photograph from over his arm. I point each person out and name them for him. I tell him about how my sisters are more different than night and day.  We sit on the edge of the bed as I speak. Gale watches me animatedly describe them. I tell him that Tomik is like a second part of me and that he and Vick appear to be around the same age. Gale smiles as I talk. It seems strange that we are connecting in this way over an image that is all I have left of my parents and siblings. I explain my parents contract, how my mother came from District 7 and my father was born in District 9.  I convey how my grandparents came together and the fortune I had of remaining with them my whole life.

Gale tells me that his father’s parents died quite a while ago, but that they both lived in 12 too. He was only five when they both passed in the same year. His eyes light up as he talks about his mother being from district 12 as well.  His parents knew each other growing up. It’s funny to think that he had so many binds here. His mother’s parents died in a mine accident when she was very young, but she was taken care of by an older sister who was later contracted to District 3. When Gale talks about his family, he is livelier than I have seen him yet. He makes me smile and I laugh as he explains his relationship with Rory and Vick.

As our laughter dies down, Gale stands to place my picture back on the dresser, “I’ll let you change,” he says as he steps out of the room.

My hands shake as I pull my second drawer open to retrieve my nightgown.  I undress with quaking limbs before I slip the nightgown over my head and feel a violent shiver from the cooling air. District 12 is a lot colder in September than my own district. I smooth my hands over the gown and go to stand on the other side of the bed before I call to Gale.

“You can come back in,” I say weakly. 

In the cold air I grip my hands over my half-bare arms and wait for him. Gale silently closes the door behind him and stands on the opposite side of the bed facing me. We both stare down at the neatly made bed coverings.  I can no longer ignore the intense feelings of nervousness coursing through my body.  It’s a steady thrum of fear.

“My mother made this quilt as a gift for us,” he tells me. I watch him thumb the fabric, inspecting it. His voice sounds scratchy as though he is talking with something stuck in his throat.

“If we had that sofa, I would sleep out there and give you privacy…” he trails off as he tries to explain himself. I know that sleeping on these rigid wood floors would be painful, so I dismiss the thought entirely.

“It’s okay. I don’t want you to sleep on the floor, that wouldn’t be comfortable in the least,” I assure him.

He looks up at me then, his eyes seem dark in this light, but the silvery grey stands out against his features. I nod at him firmly and pull the covers down. He releases a sigh and turns to snuff the lamp. The room bathes in darkness and hides the anxious emotions that are likely visible on my face.  I gently slide myself under the heavy bedding.  I feel Gale grasp the blanket and slide his own long legs beneath. The bed sinks slightly under his weight. We both lay staring at the ceiling in silence.

“I used to share a bed with my sisters until I got older. Then I got my own cot,” I whisper.

I feel the movement of Gale turning his head to face me, so I turn my own eyes toward him. I’ve adjusted to the darkness and I can just make out the line of his jaw. Each time that I inhale I catch that unidentifiable scent that I am beginning to associate with him.

“I shared a bed with the boys, Ma and Posy had the other. We all slept in one room. It’s nice that we have two bedrooms here,” Gale whispers back. I smile, imagining the whole Hawthorne family crammed into one room.

Gale begins to whisper something again, but he pauses, “It’s too…” He releases the word “quiet” at the same time that I insert the same word for him. We laugh once more.

“Yeah, too quiet. I’m used to snoring,” he says through his laugh. His laugh is deep and shakes the bed slightly. I like the sound of it greatly. I think about how my grandmother knew he laughed often.  She’d seen it in the lines by his eyes.

“Goodnight,” Gale finally breathes as he turns his back to me.  I murmur my soft reply.

He rolls onto his side and faces the doorway.  I stare at the broad expanse of his shoulders for a moment before I roll to face the opposite side.  After a long while, I hear the steady flow of his even breathing and allow myself to drift off.  I feel strangely peaceful, even knowing that this is the first night of my new forever.

 


	4. Obedience

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to Fnur, my beta.

I wake suddenly in the morning when I feel Gale shift and roll out of bed. I turn and peer at him with bleary eyes. The sky outside is still dark; the bedroom cold and crisp. He apologizes for waking me and whispers for me to go back to sleep. His voice is gentle and soothing in the moment. I briefly wonder if it is the voice he uses for Posy when she awakens. I shift into a ball and immediately drift back to sleep.

It feels like no time at all when I open my eyes once more, but I see that the sky has brightened outside our bedroom windows. I sit up and push the heavy blankets aside. I take a moment to stretch and yawn before I shimmy out of the bed. The hardwood floor feels cold on my bare feet. After making the bed and straightening the coverings I walk to the window and peer out. The day is fresh and bright, a good day for the recitation of vows.

My family will see me for the last time today. They'll watch my face appear on the mandatory viewing screen in the town square. The thought thrills me, but saddens me in the same moment. For though they will be able to watch my announcement and determine that I am alright; I won't see them.

I choose a nice dress from the closet and my only other pair of stockings to change into with some new undergarments. I quickly dress and then retrieve the pearl earrings from the box in my drawer. At some point Gale laid a small mirror on top of the dresser, so I take a peek at myself. I laugh at my unruly mane of hair and decide to comb it out before I tie it back. I fasten the little pearl earrings into my earlobes. My mother will see them and know that I am thinking of her. As a final touch, I clasp my sister's intricate hairpin on the right side of my head.

When I emerge from the bedroom, my nose is hit with an onslaught of delicious aromas. Gale is standing at the stove stirring something in the pan. He is wearing his trousers from yesterday and a blue button-down shirt with the sleeves folded up his forearms. I approach with a smile.

"Good morning Gale. Is there something I can do?" _Be the ever dutiful wife_ , they had told us in school. He glances at me over his shoulder and nods a hello.

"No. I've got it. Almost done, wanna take a seat?" He nods toward the table and I see that he has already set out some dishes. I take the same place that I sat in last night and busy myself looking through my pamphlets.

"Sorry I woke you," Gale says as he stirs, "I'm an early riser."

"Oh no, I fell right back to sleep. It's fine, I'm sure I will get used to it," I assure him.

I've read these pamphlets about three times over since they were given to me back in District 9. I'm not really seeing the words on the page now; it's really just an excuse to keep my hands busy. Instead, I take the time to analyze Gale while he works on our food. He seems good natured so far, which is a good sign for future happiness. He doesn't push me or ask too much about my past. He listens aptly when I have something to say and doesn't mind when I'm silent. I hope that he isn't just acting the part.

With the pot in one hand and a large spoon in the other, Gale approaches the table. I set my pamphlet on the tabletop. Gale furrows his brow as he looks down at the title, _Raising Children for a Better Future._ I blush deeply as I realize what he's frowning at. I don't want him to get the wrong idea. I wasn't really reading it and I definitely am not focusing on children yet. In fact, I would rather put that off for as long as possible. I bow my head as Gale spoons a thick paste onto my plate that is filled with cut up peaches.

"Oatmeal!" I gasp and then blush at my outburst. Gale laughs as he serves his own bowl.

"Sorry, you'd think I didn't see enough of it back home," I say. I think I'm really just surprised that Gale would purchase an oats ration during this time of year when the prices are higher.

I proceed to educate him about oats and wheat. He listens aptly as I talk about the mandatory labor assignments I had back in District 9. I mostly kept to the wheat fields, but we did have other grains like oats and barley. Gale is patient and quiet, so similar to my papa that I begin to think about how much Papa would like this man. Or how much my mother and father would. I smile down at my plate and try to keep myself from spewing too much knowledge about wheat production.

I wash our dishes, humming one of my mother's mountain tunes as I work. I hear Gale rummaging in the spare room for a while. We seem to be avoiding the topic of the day. The Recitation of Vows Ceremony is a flashy Capitol-driven event that is televised across all of Panem. This will be the last time my parents see my face, and the last time that I will see some of my friends and classmates. The formalities of the day truly don't hold any romanticism for me. They are just another way for the Capitol to categorize us in level of importance. Those of higher genetic standing will be respected more by other citizens. It's silly really. In 9 we really didn't follow that standard, but it is hard to say what the social practice is here in 12. I'm reminded again about what Sophie's mother had told her. That 12 has two social classes, the Seam and the Merchants. Gale emerges from the spare room and attempts a smile. I'm sure it is supposed to be reassuring in lieu of the day's events. It isn't though. _What is he really thinking?_

* * *

We prepare ourselves in silence. After we both wash our faces in the cold water of the basin sink we pull on our shoes. I slip my arms into my sweater and follow Gale out the door. We don't talk about the Ceremony as we begin walking toward the square. Gale watches the other people from the Seam as they meander up the road, talking quietly amongst themselves. I wonder if he is thinking about his friends or Katniss, but I halt those thoughts and try to focus on the road ahead of us.

The town square is bursting with life. Nearly the entire district is present. Those who can't be there physically are asked to watch from their homes. Of course, the presentation is mandatory, so if you aren't viewing you should expect trouble from Peacekeepers. Gale ushers me toward a roped-off section where contract couples are being herded. I don't really recognize anyone, but Gale nods his head in greeting toward a few people. This district seems to have more people and much less space. Coal production must be a higher priority to the Capitol than grains.

A blare of trumpets announces that the ceremony is about to begin. The crowd almost instantly loses its vitality as a hush falls on the group. A woman with bright pink hair and an obnoxious lavender suit shimmies her way across the stage. Her smile is too large and her make-up too thick. Gale smirks as she attempts to keep her skirt from riding up as she walks.

"She's a piece of work, newly appointed this year. You missed her speech before the train arrived. It was…enlightening to see how the Capitol is feeling these days about contracts," Gale whispers as the woman taps her hand on the microphone. A sharp buzz resounds through the mega-speakers and nearly everyone groans.

"Welcome, welcome to the 75th annual Recitation of Vows Ceremony. My name is Effie Trinket and I am honored to represent District 12 as Master of Ceremonies. This year we have a number of lovely couples to showcase and welcome into society." Effie's voice is shrill and bouncy, like her appearance. I try to keep my expression tolerant as she titters on.

It will be difficult to endure Effie's voice if this year's ceremony lasts for several hours. The length of the ceremony usually depends on the number of contract couples. When we are assigned to our partners, the Capitol attempts to pair every eighteen-year-old citizen in the entire country. If there is not an even number of males and females, which there never is, then some people have to wait in the rotation for the next year. Therefore, some people aren't contracted at the age of eighteen like Gale and I. This also means that some eighteen-year-olds can be contracted to a person who has lost a spouse. In my district there was one girl who was assigned to marry a widowed man who was three times her age. _For the good of Panem_ , you do not get to voice your opinion about such strange things as that.

Each district will participate in the presentation of couples today. There is a rotation schedule, starting with the Capitol and working through each district. This design allows one pair to be showcased and allows the announcers to rest. Then the cycle repeats itself. This is how my family will see me. Each Master of Ceremonies prepares an excerpt about the couples as their footage appears on screen. For this reason, I dread listening to Effie. I'm sure she will add bits of flourish to each presentation. I've been so lost in thought that I startle when I hear a familiar line.

"Ladies and Gentlemen, please recite your vows…I just love this part!" Effie Trinket trills excitedly from the stage.

She's nothing like the Capitol-appointed Master of Ceremonies that we have in District 9. This woman seems to have romanticized the act of being contracted. She was probably raised in the Capitol all her life. Gale has an air of annoyance in his expression as he grimaces at her. He turns toward me with a stony face and takes my hands in his. I stare down at his large calloused palms. They feel so foreign, wrapped around my own.

Around us the other contracted couples have begun reciting the vow in unison. Gale's deep baritone joins the din. His gaze on my face is quizzical and then I remember that I am supposed to be pledging my vow as well. My voice is softer than usual as I recite the words.

My eyes scan our interlocked palms as I speak, "On this day, I vow that I will honor my country, provide children for whom I will devote my life, support my district, and cherish the gifts that the Capitol has provided. I will do everything I can for the good of Panem."

As Gale recites the vow of the covenant I can see the tension in his jaw muscles. Though we have both officially signed our contract before this moment and are irrevocably bound to each other by law, the Capitol likes to make a show of contracted couples pledging their allegiance to Panem. The pledge is to honor our country and each other. His countenance is strange and I think he probably feels that the act of allegiance is foolish.

When the words have ceased Gale bends toward me with a strained expression on his face. I swallow thickly and close my eyes as his lips meet mine. The kiss is a formality of the ceremony. The Capitol enjoys the romanticism of the act. Our kiss is chaste and fairly quick. I have enough time to notice that Gale's lips are soft and quite plump. When he pulls away I try to fight off the slight heat of blush that spreads across my cheeks. Gale's eyes skim over my face quickly before he releases my hands.

I spread my now sweaty palms across my dress and sigh softly when Effie Trinket pronounces us officially contracted in the covenant of marriage. Each couple is ushered into a line alongside the stage. The presentation begins with the Capitol district. A flashy couple that have ridiculous names smile widely as they wave. Gale and I stand silently beside each other. Cato Bartholomew, one of my potential contract partners graces his district with a pompous expression. His wife is gorgeous and her name, Glimmer, screams Capitol-born citizen. I roll my eyes as they grin with wide false smiles. _I'm glad I escaped a connection to someone so blatantly flashy._

The next few districts are exhibit couples with similar genetic importance. This is how ceremonies usually go. Organizing couples by importance to the country. I realize that Gale and I are the second couple in line. _That's odd, maybe Gale has high genetic markers_ , I think as I scan the long line behind us. The couple ahead of us is talking softly. The man turns and nods addressing our presence. He seems to exchange a meaningful look with my husband, something that speaks more than an acquaintance's expression. The man turns after a beat and ushers his wife up the few steps to the platform.

"Is he a friend?" I murmur softly.

Gale nods, "Yeah, grew up together."

I watch the couple mount the stage and stand close together in the center. As they wait, District 11 is showcased behind them and on all the screens in the square. Thresh Jackson, also another potential partner of mine, stands beside a small woman with beautiful caramel skin. It hits me that I've already seen two of my contract potentials. _Maybe I'm the reason for our being presented so early in the line-up._ The screens shift again and focus on District 12. Gale's friend and his wife can now be seen throughout the entire country. Behind them the large screen displays their faces, dwarfing them on the vast stage. Across Panem everyone will see them.

The man that grew up with Gale has dark hair and tan skin that contrasts his wife's fair skin and hair. Effie announces them as their vocations flash across the screen for everyone to see. Special couples are presented more formally. For example, there are many people who have strong links to the original families that survived the Black Death. Those people are revered for their superior genetics and are bred specifically to maintain those markers that will lead to a genetically superior race who have antibodies against various types of plague.

"Thom and Delly Pulaski," Effie gushes as she sweeps her hand out to introduce them to Panem. They stand rigidly in the center. Thom's expression is blank, but Delly smiles cheerily toward the crowd. She even musters a small wave.

The screen displaying their faces splits to detail their genetic statistics. Delly has some important markers, but also has a strong familial predisposition for fraternal twins. Her tests results yielded a high frequency of multiple egg release during ovulation. As Effie notes this, I see Delly's smile falter slightly. Birthing multiples is difficult, and if you can provide for the Capitol in that way then they will likely want more than the required amount of children.

Thom carries many of the markers that are inherently important to the Capitol. His statistics are whispered about by several people in the audience. Thom resembles Gale in many ways. Their grey eyes and dark hair are very similar. Perhaps they are closely related, which means that Gale could have prime genetic markers too. I suspect that Gale is probably linked to an original strong bloodline like Thom. As I briefly ponder this, I take a moment to listen as Effie gushes about the vocations of the couple. Delly will be working as a schoolteacher, specializing in Biology, and Thom will be an apprentice to the Foreman at the mine.

Thom laces his fingers with Delly's as he ushers her off the stage a moment later. The screen continues to show couples across the country, alternating between districts. I smirk when I see Poppy Warren's face shift into view. She and her contract partner look positively ridiculous next to each other. He's two feet shorter than her and very plain, though he seems to have a familial predisposition for outliving degenerative diseases. Poppy was so certain that she would marry a wealthy soldier. She's so concerned with looks and presentation, she's probably fuming.

The bubbly feeling in my stomach is replaced by horror when I see Sophie and her husband appear on the gigantic screens soon after.

"Oh no," I whisper before I press my fist against my lips to cover my sob.

Sophie has a large bruise on her right cheek that rims the edge of her eye. The large screens magnify her face, displaying the painful truth. This isn't the first time that abuse has been displayed so visibly at the ceremony. It is common, more common than most people would care to admit. _Be the ever mindful wife; do as your husband desires; provide for your partner's mind, body, and soul._ All those rules were drilled into us from an early point in our education. To put Panem's needs before your own, you must follow such rules.

Fearful thoughts spread through my mind as I imagine what must have occurred once my friend met her husband. They had spent the night traveling together on the train and afterward would have slept in the same bed again upon arriving in their assigned district. I can only assume that he had forced her into a compromising position, or that he felt her cooking or skills were not adequate. Regardless, he punished her with his fists. I feel like I might vomit from the thought of it.

Sophie is kind and lovely, but she is not one to allow someone to take advantage of her. The evidence of my fears is spread clearly across her features though. Sophie looks frightened, her eyes are trained downwards. Her husband is a bulky man with bronze skin. I remember her describing him to me before, but I hadn't looked too intently at his picture. Her family is seeing her for the last time today, her face magnified everywhere. _They must be heartbroken_.

Tears well up immediately in my eyes and I shake my head trying to rid the bitter reality. Gale clears his throat and tentatively presses his palm over my shoulder. The steady squeeze of his palm startles me.

"Your friend?" He questions in a whisper.

All I can do is nod grimly and continue to assess my beautiful friend's bruised face. After a moment the screen switches to the next district. Immediately I turn toward my husband, the only source of comfort I currently have. Gale's face swims in my vision as the tears finally begin to drip down my cheeks. I feel his fingers pressing against my tears to wipe them away.

The ceremonies are continuing faintly in the background. I try to focus on Gale's concerned grey eyes. He wipes my cheeks with his thumbs and then grasps my hand to pull me onto the stage. I try to appear happy, so my family won't be concerned when they see us broadcasted on the screen; especially after what they have seen with Sophie. Effie smiles at us warmly as we stop in the middle of the vast empty space. We are alone up here, each other's only support as we face our statistical future. Gale doesn't release my hand when we are announced and I wonder if he is hoping it will keep my tears at bay.

"Gale and Arwen Hawthorne," Effie trills happily, "This lovely couple have superb genetic markers and will undoubtedly provide beautiful children. Mr. Hawthorne is of direct lineage with the Hawthornes of the Dark Ages who remained valiant survivors in the chaos of District 12. Mrs. Hawthorne can be linked to the original Brooks family lineage of District 4. We salute the precious value of their union." She explains our vocations and excites herself over our future contribution to the nation. My eyes focus on a screen at the back of the square as she chatters on about our genetic markers. I look so small beside Gale's vast height. My hair looks like fire in the bright sunlight; my skin is creamy and paler than usual. In contrast, Gale's skin and hair seem darker than in person. He attempts a small smile, but it is forced. Seeing us united like this we really do seem to match somehow.

Effie explains that we were supposed to be the first couple to be presented. That there was some sort of mix-up. She announces that Gale and I not only share direct lineage to people who had a genetic aversion to the Black Death, but we may have the correct combination of markers that the Capitol has been looking for. My ears feel completely clogged as she drones on. I'm faint and confused.

My mind swims over the knowledge that my genetics are actually of an original family lineage. My parents never told me. We may have a perfect combination of alleles; the combination that the Capitol is looking for. This fact, changes _everything_. Gale and I, we're beyond a high level of compatibility percentages. As a pair we will combine extremely coveted genes. I furrow my brow slightly over the thought. As far as the breeding of our citizens goes, I've just become an elevated priority.

The government will keep a watchful eye on us and our quota. The quota of four children will be expected to be exceeded in order to provide more of our genetic combination to the districts. My throat tenses to the point of near closure, blocking the necessary amount of air. I'm hazing over, as all my senses become fuzzy.

A wave of murmuring sweeps through the sea of people before us. My eyes skim the crowd before being drawn to a familiar set of faces. Only three rows in, I spot Gale's family, _our family._ Posy is perched on Rory's shoulders, waving excitedly at us. Hazelle has one arm draped over Vick's slim shoulders. Her expression is balanced under a thin veil of happiness, but I can see the look of concern in her eyes.

The Capitol will want us to be working toward our quota as soon as possible. More than other contracted couples. More of our children will be sent directly to the Capitol someday to keep the genetics balanced for the future rulers.

Gale presses me forward when our contract announcement is completed. My legs quake as we descend the stairs on the opposite side of the stage. Gale still hasn't released my palm. He glances at me with concern, though it is veiled by the stern look he is presenting the surrounding crowd. I try to smile reassuringly at him, but even that simple act is difficult. The constriction in my chest and throat makes it hard to breath. Gale leads me toward a standing section where we both silently watch the rest of the proceedings.

Delly Pulaski, the new wife of Gale's childhood friend, keeps glancing over her shoulder at me. She bites her nail nervously as her eyes shift from the proceedings and then wander back toward me. I stare at her blankly as she appraises me again. Thom finally notices her nervous behavior and gives her a strange look. She wilts under his gaze and focuses on the proceedings. He shoots Gale a quizzical stare that is returned with a shrug. For another hour we stand, watching couples cross the stage or flit across the screen. When everything is finished, the president's face graces the screen. He gives a speech about our duty to our country, district, and family. Something about him makes my stomach churn violently.

Thom approaches when the screen finally goes black and the crowd of contractees and onlookers starts to disperse. He sidles up and presses a large palm into Gale's, shaking it firmly, "Well, I guess we'll be heading into the dark abyss tomorrow. You ready to spend your life in the mines?" He doesn't seem enthused; I wonder what working in the mines is like and if the children here have free mandatory labor assignments there.

"You know I'll never be ready," Gale says back. He sighs and shifts heavily onto one foot as he scans the crowd.

"I wonder how much time that will leave me for my _other_ activities," I can't catch the meaning that Gale slants onto the end of his sentence. Thom seems to understand though. He nods glumly in some sort of agreement.

My eyes slide toward Delly. Her bright blue eyes are piercing me with some sort of concerned look. Thom and Gale watch confusedly as Delly reaches a hand forward and grips mine. Her palm is moist and cold. I furrow my brow and gaze down at her clammy grip as she pulls me closer slightly and glances around her.

"I need to talk to you right now," she says firmly.

"I'm Delly by the way, but you must know that already what with this whole charade of names and vocations." She glances around once more, eyeing the whereabouts of the nearest peacekeeper.

Her grip tightens as she pulls me closer. Gale steps forward, suddenly seeming apprehensive about this strange girl and her weird behavior. Her eyes plead with mine as she whispers to me.

"You can't risk coupling tonight. You understand that? No sleeping together," she says forcefully as she addresses both me and Gale. I blush deeply and my mouth falls open slightly as I inhale a sharp breath.

"I know what happens to the contract pairs who have strong genetic lineage like the two of you and it isn't pretty. They won't like that you are contracted to this district. They'll find some way to bring you to the Capitol. They'll test you seven ways to Sunday. And you can kiss any kid of yours goodbye from the moment it's born. It'll be subject to genetic testing. They're looking for the cure and they want it bad enough to murder you or keep you as a lab rat so that they have an everlasting supply of your DNA." Her voice is quaking slightly as she hurriedly explains herself.

"What the fuck are you talking about?" Gale whispers angrily back at her.

I grimace at his choice of language, but a tight biting fear is slithering through my entire body. Does this girl really know what she is talking about or is she crazy?

"You don't believe me? The three of us grew up in this district Gale; don't you ever look at Annie Odair? She's the way she is for a reason." Gale's whole body stiffens ever so slightly. I shoot him a questioning look. I remember that Hazelle said the furniture store was owned by the Odair family.

Gale doesn't say anything. He just stares off toward the citizens meandering through the shops at our left. It appears that Delly, Thom, and Gale all went to school together, though Delly's fair skin and hair are in stark contrast to the two dark men. _Two halves to this district, Delly must be a Merchant's daughter_. _How strange it must be for Thom and Delly to have known each other previously and be contracted to each other now_ , I wonder. Gale's parents had the same fate too and it turned out rather well.

Delly's warning shivers through me once more as Gale fixes me with his silver shaded gaze. _Who is Annie Odair and what happened to her that has Gale's whole body tight like a live wire?_

"Delly, let's discuss this later. Not here." Thom says angrily as he forces her hand to loosen its grasp on me.

I try to keep my eyes from going wide at the implications this girl has just given me of a danger I hadn't dared to think existed. It seems true though, it seems like something the Capitol would do. Delly frowns deeply as Thom forcefully shoves her arm down. He immediately apologizes for possibly hurting her. She meets his eyes with a watery gaze and then swallows thickly. Thom is gripping her hands tightly. _In the past, would they ever have touched each other like this?_ Thom's expression exhibits a level of care that is more intimate than Gale's had been when easing my pain.

"You can't imagine the things that they will do to Gale and Arwen," Delly whispers shakily through an onslaught of tears.

The fear in my body twangs sharply when she begins to cry. She is scaring the wits out of me. Gale presses his large palm against my back again as Thom places his hands on Delly's face, trying to calm her. His fingers ghost over her features.

"I need you to calm down, Delly. Put a strong face on until we get home. We'll talk later, okay?" He says hurriedly as he glances around looking for onlookers. Delly sniffs sharply and tries to calm herself with big deep breaths. She nods at him and attempts to give me an apologetic look.

"I'm sorry for scaring you. It's just…" Her voice trails off as she looks down at her feet. I nod and swallow the thick bile in my throat. Gale clears his throat roughly behind me.

"Maybe we should get home too," he says to me. He and Thom shake hands and exchange a look that I can't read. Their level of friendship must be rather deep.

"Gale, before we go to the house, I thought we could stop at a few of the shops. I have some coin that we could use for supplies. We need some more things for cooking and such," I say softly. Gale nods and leads me toward a general store that is located on the far end of the square. When we are nearly there, a large man stops Gale to ask if he is "dealing". The word confuses me. Gale tells the man he isn't and we continue walking toward the shop. I debate about asking him to explain himself, but the words eventually slip out without my consent anyway.

"What did that man want?" I ask timidly.

Gale heaves a sigh and doesn't look at me, as he tells me it was 'nothing'. I feel a little flame of anger flare up inside me. _This man is already hiding something from me,_ something that he alluded to with Thom only moments ago. We've just been told that we could be subject to torture at the hands of the Capitol, and he doesn't seem to think that unites us enough for divulging secrets.

The general store has a bell on its door that clanks loudly when we enter. Gale and I examine several versions of utensils and cooking ware. He doesn't use words, but rather holds up something with raised eyebrows whenever he wonders if I like an item as well. We choose several items and decide to share the cost. I peek at a few shelves as Gale pays at the register. I need to purchase a gift for him soon; my duty once more. That's what my life will be from now on, fulfilling duties.

Nothing seems to catch my eye and Gale is done quickly, so I follow him out. As we meander through the village, people wave at Gale once in a while. It seems that our social status has already taken effect. He wasn't nearly this popular on our way into town at the beginning of the day. Another man clasps Gale's hand as we enter the Seam, pulling him away from me for a moment.

"Got anything for me, Hawthorne?" The man asks with an eager expression.

I furrow my eyebrows together and try hard to eavesdrop on the conversation without looking too obvious. I dig the toe of my shoe in the dirt absentmindedly. Gale eyes me warily as he turns the man down. When we part ways with him, I immediately demand an answer from my husband, _duties be damned_ , I can ignore the responsibility of obedience for a moment.

"It doesn't sound like nothing, whatever it is you do," I huff. Gale glares at me as he shakes his head and starts stalking toward our house. I bite my lip at his anger and quicken my pace to follow him.

"You don't need to meddle in my affairs," he barks as we reach our house.

"Whatever it is that you are doing, it must be bad because it's a secret," I grind out as he pulls his boots off in the doorway. His expression is still heated and his body posture is rigid.

I press on, "I'm part of this family now, and I should know what I'm associated with."

I drop our purchases on the kitchen table as Gale begins pacing the room. He runs his hands through his thick hair and releases a long breath of air. Whatever he does…it must be illegal; otherwise he wouldn't be acting this way. He finally swivels towards me. His gaze is piercingly sharp. I cross my arms over my chest involuntarily, as if they will protect me from his words.

"I'm a poacher," he says. The word sounds dirty and I don't really know what it means. My expression must relay my confusion.

"I hunt illegally in the woods," he says. I inhale sharply. I wasn't expecting this. He ventures past the fence and kills animals. I can't decide which part of the truth is more frightening, the killing or the illegal trespassing.

"What if you are caught? What then? Will we both be punished?"

Gale's eyes blaze even more at my questions, "There are worse things than going hungry," I state. My voice is firm and smooth, even though my heart is beating sporadically. I grip the back of the nearest chair as Gale begins to explain himself.

"I do it so that people don't starve to death, because that's how things really are here," he makes a large sweeping gesture with his arms. The venom in his voice tells me he thinks I've come from a higher life than him. It tells me that all the food we've had so far isn't the norm. This won't be an extravagant life with him. This will be like my old life. Living paycheck to paycheck with lovely things now and then, times that are few and far between.

"I do it because it's the right thing to do. I won't sit by and watch people starve so that the Capitol can have more things they don't need." He grinds out his words, punctuating them with a fist against the table.

"Gale," I whisper, "I didn't come from a life of luxury. The money I brought with me was a gift from my family. They saved for months. I just want to understand you and what drove you into this." It's crazy really, to have sought out such a treasonous career.

"Becoming a man before my time, that's what drove me to it," he shouts, startling me. He slams his fist even harder on the table this time.

"I've been the man of my family for a long time. I did what I had to for them to survive. So did Katniss, she's my hunting partner. She understands why this is necessary." I close my eyes for a brief moment and try to understand the necessity of it all. The dangers and impracticalities almost outweigh the kindness behind it. He will be killed for treason if he is ever caught.

"You can't talk about this with anyone," Gale says as he steps closer. His words are forceful. I know he can read every thinly concealed thought in my terrified eyes. A new thought slides forward, _is this angry man the true Gale? Has everything thus far been a lie?_

"I'll be obedient and _do as my husband desires_ , because that's what a 'good wife' does," I say spitefully. I shift on my feet before I continue, "And when they kill you in front of our family I'll try not to be bitter." Gale's nostrils flare as he steps back and shakes his head.

"You'll already be bitter anyway; you'll have been forced to bear an endless number of my children _for the good of Panem_. We both know that we can't escape that now."

With those last angry words he storms off, forcing his boots back onto his feet and slamming the door as he leaves. My knuckles are white from gripping the chair, and when I step away from it I register that my entire body is quaking. Slowly, I fall to my knees on the hard wooden floor. His treason could kill me too, or it could kill his innocent family. And if treason doesn't ruin us, then the expectations to provide children will.

Either way, I hate the outcome. Either way, I'll be torn apart.


	5. Emotions

As I lay in bed I have a hard time falling asleep. For hours I stare at the ceiling, seeing the image of Sophie without even closing my eyes. I can't suppress the thousands of sinister scenarios that could have resulted in her being beaten. _Did that man rape her?_ When I try to think about my family to quell the pain I can only imagine their reactions to seeing Sophie that way. And what of her own siblings? What did her family think when they saw her? Even thinking of my anger at Gale doesn't help me rid the ache in my heart, if anything it makes it worse.

There is no protection. No preservation of self once you've been contracted. You must submit to the law and to your partner. The injustice of this realization, finally forces tears from my eyes. My body is no longer my own.

Even though the house is silent and empty, I try to keep my sobs as quiet as I can. I feel the bed quaking with the vigorous shaking of my body. _I'm tired, that's why I'm crying so hard,_ I think. I know though, that everything has just finally become too much. I've lost the little bit of control that I've maintained.

Some time passes before I hear the creak of the front door, followed by a low thunk; probably Gale dropping his boots. I shiver as I continue to cry. Anxiously I rub the back of my hands against my eyes. It doesn't do much good though. I turn myself over roughly, so that my back is facing our bedroom door. I don't want to face him right now. He didn't want to face me either; otherwise he would have been home hours ago.

When Gale opens the bedroom door he does it so quietly that the creak of the dresser opening startles me. I nestle further into my damp pillow and try to maintain even breathing. Gale's clothes rustle quietly as he changes. Then I feel a slight draft on my back as he pulls the blankets back to climb into bed. He sighs heavily as he adjusts himself. I press my face harder into the pillow to keep my emotions from bursting out. I'm sure that Gale can feel my shoulders lightly shaking the mattress as I cry.

I must cry myself into a deep sleep at some point, because when I open my eyes it is suddenly daylight. The hearty call of a bird pulls me from a dream. _I was lying in the field behind the house looking at the clouds with Tomik._ Gale is gone again. I make our bed trying to ignore the looming silence. I attempt to hum one of mother's mountain tunes, but it chokes me up too much and I fear that I'll be strangled with emotion again so I quit while I'm ahead.

Today will be the first day of my vocation assignment. After the bed is made I take out a pair of trousers and a shirt to wear. I'm not quite sure what Healer Everdeen will expect me to wear. I lay the outfit on the bed before I go to the kitchen to set up a small pail for washing. It was one of our new purchases yesterday. It's still shiny and unused.

Neither Gale nor I have used the large wash basin yet either, but eventually one of us will need a full-fledged bath. There is a large wash basin sitting in the bottom of the closet ready to be used. We'll need to boil water in buckets to fill it. _I wonder if we'll wash indoors or outdoors_.

I notice that Gale's mining gear is missing and realize that he probably had to be at the mines long ago. He probably prepared his own lunch. _We've only been married for a few days and I'm already forgetting to feed him,_ I scoff at myself as I fill the small pail with water and set it on the stove to heat up.

After the water has warmed enough I remove my nightclothes and moisten the washcloth to clean myself. It feels strange being nude in this house. I quickly wash dirt and stench from my body with a little bar of soap. Afterward I dry the water droplets that have fallen on the floor and dump my dirty wash water back down the sink's drain.

After dressing and preparing a small breakfast I check the one clock in our house. An old thing that's perched over the fireplace. I have a little bit of time before I will be required to meet Healer Everdeen, but then again, I'm not exactly certain how to reach her home. I nervously scan my paperwork and find her address quickly enough. I'll still have to ask someone how to get there though.

* * *

When I exit the house the sun seems brighter than it did yesterday. It beats down on my shoulders and the crown of my head. I ask an elderly woman to direct me toward Healer Everdeen's street and she points me back toward the fork in the road. I head down the opposite end and search for her house number. Most of the houses on this side seem just as dismal as my own. The Everdeen's home is on the end of a block next to the forest, much like mine. I approach and steel my nerves. I'm uncertain what will be in store for me, but I'm ready to learn all that I can.

Healer Everdeen answers shortly after my knock, "Hello. Please come in, come in." Healer Everdeen's house is set up differently than mine. It looks as though it has four bedrooms instead of two and a living room that doubles as a ward.

"Thank you for being punctual," she tells me as she heads into the living area that serves as kitchen, dining room, living room, and ward.

Immediately Healer Everdeen returns to a brew that she's making on the stove. I watch her languidly stir the contents; she continues to add varying ingredients as she stirs. One look around and I realize that I'll be needing a lot more equipment than the set of vials Gale gave me. I haven't given much thought to how healers get their tools and medicine.

Healer Everdeen's living room area has two tables with soft pads on top, serving as thin mattresses. She has a curtain fashioned to the ceiling around them. A large cabinet on the left is full of vials, bottles, and canisters. The couch and kitchen table are pushed against the opposite wall of the room.

"Take a look around, I'll be with you in a moment. I just have to finish mixing this salve," Healer Everdeen nods toward her equipment.

I move toward the large cabinet I was just eyeing and open it gingerly. Many of the containers are labeled with a white tape and a neat cursive script. Healer Everdeen must jar most things herself. I inspect the beds and the linen cabinets next. Everything is organized and pristine. It is probably very important to know where all the materials are and to be prepared for anything.

Healer Everdeen removes the pot from her stove and places it on a cooling rack in the middle of the table. She beckons for me to sit down across from her. She pulls out some paperwork and a file. It feels strange to be here, to be starting this so soon after leaving home. I don't feel ready in the least.

"Well, welcome to my home and ward. I'm happy to be working with you. We'll be working together for several years before you are granted the ability to work from your own home. For starters, I'd like you to call me Josephine. You are a colleague now, so that last name business isn't necessary," she smiles at me as she slides the paperwork across the table.

"You can call me Arwen then," I agree. She has a nice smile.

"Alright, down to business. I'll need to you to fill out these papers so that the Capitol knows that you've actually shown up to work. Then we can get started with some preliminary lessons on herbs. I'll give you homework every day and you'll mostly be doing some observations and lessons for the time being," she explains as I begin filling out my paperwork. She allows me a few minutes to complete the forms. I push the stack back toward her when I am finished and she folds the papers neatly before placing them in an envelope.

"Let's talk about herbs today, it is a good place to start," Josephine pronounces as she nods toward her large cabinet. She begins to pull out a number of different jars. She stacks them in three different groups on the table.

"These are your basic herbal remedies for soothing aches, pains, and mild cold symptoms," she indicates the large pile on the left side of the table. She points to two of the jars and declares them the most important. Next she moves her hand toward the middle pile.

"These are for fever and higher level pain; but be careful, too high a dosage can slip someone into a deep sleep that's hard to come out of." I mentally note the side effect and reprimand myself for not bringing any paper to write notes on.

"Last we have the herbs that are good for fertility and regulation of menstrual cycles. You can also expect it to help even out any intense emotional swings. These are the most important. The Capitol expects that you will keep fertility a top priority by promoting good health in all women," Josephine presses her hands to her hips as she finishes explaining her herbs.

She chews her lip for a moment, thinking about something. Then she nods to herself and holds a finger up to indicate she has something else she wants to show me. I wait beside the table, hoping that I don't look as distressed by learning healing methods as I already feel. Josephine returns with a large tome in her hands. It is frayed on the edges and looks as though it has been put to good use through the years. She places the large book on the table and turns to the first page as she slides it closer to me.

We stand nearly shoulder to shoulder as she points to the inscription, "This book has been passed down through my family for generations. I was born in the Capitol, but my parents were both from other districts. My parents ran an apothecary shop that specialized in homeopathic medicines. My great-great-great grandfather started writing this book of herbs when he was an apprentice in District 3. The rest came as time passed and he was handed down. Even my late husband made about twenty entries from herbs he found outside the fence." The last part, Josephine says very quietly as though her home has Capitol surveillance. She seems dazed suddenly. I wonder if she is thinking of her husband. She shakes her head softly before closing the book and smiling at me.

"It has herbs and remedies from four different districts. I want you to study it. I'll entrust it to you for the time being. Every night you will read five entries and report your findings to me." I nod my assent to complete the task. Just as she is about to say something else we hear a loud bang.

The front door slams against the wall in the entryway. I jump in surprise and swivel to see a bearded man hobbling in. His grin is wide and brimming with sarcasm. He looks worn, gruff, and older than Healer Everdeen by several years. I know immediately though, that this is her second husband. The man who Gale said was contracted to her since both of their spouses were deceased. _They still need to produce one more child between them to meet quota_ , the thought slips through and makes me shiver. They are too old to be worrying about a quota deadline.

I can't remember his name, but the man looks half-drunk. I vaguely remember Gale calling him an old drunkard. He leans heavily against the wall as he sloppily unlaces his boots. He's toeing them off when Katniss comes bounding in after him.

"We're not done talking about this old man!" Katniss hisses as she forces her way around him in the hallway and blocks his entrance into the house. She stabs her pointer finger into the center of his chest and he wobbles backwards as if the mere touch of her finger is enough to tip him over.

"Sweetheart I know what I seen!" He barks out, half laughing as he swivels back. His face comes close to brushing against her enflamed cheeks. She glares at him with disgust.

"Haymitch, there is absolutely nothing going on between me and Peeta Mellark!" Katniss words are barely finished before the man, Haymitch it seems, is laughing in her face again.

"Bullshit, sweetheart. You were making eyes at each other. He looked like he wanted to stuff you with more than a few cheese buns," Haymitch finally pushes his way past the angry girl and makes his way into the kitchen area. He nods a hello to his wife before he slams a glass on the counter and pours a clear liquid into it from a flask.

"Josephine, looking wonderful as always today love," Haymitch smirks towards his wife.

I expect her nostrils to flare in aversion, but she rolls her eyes and smiles heartily back at him. Within a beat she moves towards him. She pats his back and removes the glass from his fist just before he attempts to take a swig of the vile smelling liquid. He pouts a protest at her as she tucks the glass away in the icebox. She shoos him away from it with a knowing look that says, _you can have it later and you've had enough for now._

Katniss is standing angrily in the middle of the kitchen, looking flustered. Haymitch reaches a hand out to squeeze Josephine's hip as he turns his attentions back to her daughter. He grins smugly at her, mocking her with a short little phrase, "Something wrong sweetheart?" Josephine cuts in before Katniss' anger can flame at her stepfather once more.

"Arwen, this is my husband Haymitch Abernathy. You've already met Katniss," she introduces me. Haymitch finally turns his hazy eyes on me. He leans over with his palm stretched wide in my direction. I shake it gingerly, noting the strange stickiness of his fingers and the scent of alcohol that lingers on my hand afterward.

"Rough job kid, but you'll like learning from the Mrs.," Haymitch says. I muster a smile for social standards. Though, I know that I'll have a lot of learning and difficult cases to make it through during my time with Healer Everdeen.

"How was your day Katniss?" Josephine asks as she smiles at her daughter. Katniss just shrugs in response, eyeing me for a moment before she swings a giant leather bag onto the table beside the plant book. It must be her hunting bag. It looks like something that someone would bring into the forest at least.

I take a moment to examine Katniss' appearance more. She's a pretty girl, plain but stunning in a wild sort of way. Her long black hair is wispy and her silver eyes are vibrant. She truly looks as though she could be Gale's sister. He hadn't labeled her his lover or given her any other term of endearment, but rather had simply called her his _hunting partner_. As such, what duty did she owe to him then?

Haymitch pats his wife on the hip before going to the old couch and unceremoniously falling onto it, "Your daughter had a wonderful day today, Josey, fraternizing with Mellark's youngest boy. He's real sweet on her, that lump of lard is."

Katniss glares at him and gives her mother an exasperated expression as she opens her bag to begin removing items. Josephine shoots me an apologetic look for the bickering. It's amusing, but I wonder how much of it she has to deal with on a daily basis. The more I see from Katniss, the more evident it is that she has a quick temper. Haymitch probably gets his daily dose of excitement from instigating.

Haymitch pats his knee as he laughs, "Should have seen the eyes he was giving her." He laughs again and continues, "It won't end well Sweetheart, and you know you'll be contracted to different people." Katniss' silence doesn't last long. She swivels on her heel and crosses her arms roughly over her chest.

"Nothing did or will ever happen Haymitch. We won't ever be together to begin with so you won't have to worry about my honor or emotions," she grits out, "And STOP calling me sweetheart!" Haymitch chuckles, but finally acquiesces.

Josephine beckons me back to the kitchen area where she shows me how to finish a salve she was working on when I arrived. We jar the burn cream and she places it in the ice box to keep it fresh. We discuss the uses of Capitol medicines and how most patients can't afford them anyway. She does admit that she never utilizes them unless absolutely necessary.

I realize that Gale's medicine purchase is worth more to me and my future patients than I thought. Beside us Katniss removes a series of small furry animals. With the same deftness I saw from Gale the first night of my life here, Katniss removes the fur. After skinning the animal she begins to cut the meat and remove entrails. The smell is putrid, but no one in the room seems to mind. If I don't have the stomach for this, how will I have the stomach for injured patients?

Next Josephine teaches me how to clean cloth wrappings for injuries and how to bind a splint. We use Haymitch's leg as a model. He seems annoyed, but allows his wife the opportunity to teach me. Haymitch is an unruly fake patient, but after the third try Josephine deems my splint well-done. Haymitch escapes to his bedroom after I've finished with his leg for the last time.

* * *

For the remainder of the day I follow Josephine through her daily work. She prepares ingredients for mixing for most of the afternoon and discusses the benefits of being prepared for anything. She tells me about the other Healers who have worked in the district and briefly mentions that her youngest daughter has really taken a shine to healing. Primrose Everdeen sounds sweet and the stories her mother tells about her eagerness to help make me take an instant liking to her. I see Katniss smiling at the sink as she listens to her sister being praised.

As it begins to reach the late afternoon Josephine informs me that I am free to go. I help her clean up and thank her for the day. She retreats into her room to check on Haymitch before she begins dinner. The plant book is heavy as I hold it against my chest. I stand in the doorway and glance around the room one last time. For the next few years I will be working in this room, healing patients with all sorts of conditions. The thought is daunting.

I am about to leave when Katniss turns toward me, her forearms drenched in blood. She clears her throat roughly and shoots me a sidelong glance. It's apparent she's waited until I was alone to address me directly.

"Uh…I'm sorry you know…about the other day," Katniss shifts her gaze toward the sink as she speaks. I stare at her bloody palms. It's an awkward apology, but I appreciate it.

"It's fine. Changes can affect everyone in different ways," I encourage her with a forgiving smile. I think the corner of her mouth turns up, but it is hard to tell. She nods a few times and then looks at me more directly.

"Gale told me you know about us and the hunting…that's why I'm not hiding this from you," she nods down at the bloody kitchen area.

She has an organized system of cleaning and sorting her meat. I can see several containers lined along the counter. I've been avoiding eye contact with the area, afraid that I may get sick all over the floor. I don't want Healer Everdeen to think I'm not able to stomach things when I will be seeing all sorts of injuries in the coming months.

"You both know the risks and I suppose you know how I feel about it too," I say. Katniss nods and sets back to work on the animal she is currently handling. My stomach lurches as she slaps a large chunk of meat into one of the larger containers.

"Maybe I will come to terms with it someday," I murmur. Katniss glances up at me, her eyes set in a determined way.

"You will if you know what's best for your _family_ ," she affirms. The way her voice lilts on the final word grates at me. She's hinting at the thing that Gale and I must come to terms with. We will soon be pawns of the Capitol; perpetually trying to provide enough children to keep our family in the government's good graces.

A harsh knock on the front door makes me jump. Katniss' eyes plead that she needs me to answer it. I oblige, setting the plant book on a chair and swiftly opening the front door. I hear Josephine exiting her room behind me. On the front stoop is a little boy, no older than seven. His face is covered in dirty tear tracks and he is heaving with the effort to catch his breath. He must have run all the way here. My stomach plummets, I know we're about to be dragged off to see the first patient I will ever have in District 12.

Josephine shoulders around me, placing her hand on the boy's arm and urging him to take long deep breaths. Eventually his breathing slows enough for him to inform us that his older brother fell out of a tree and broke his leg down by the creek. Josephine adopts a fierce expression as she quickly packs her bag with medical supplies. Earlier she had shown me the preliminary supplies that she always keeps in the large canvas bag by the door. The additional supplies include stitching supplies, the materials for a splint, and extra gauze and antiseptic.

Before I know it we are rushing after the young boy as he leads us through the district. I barely have my bearings on the direction when we halt beside a small dirty creek. Instantly my ears are met with anguished wails. Josephine reaches the boy first and hurriedly kneels beside him. She has her supplies out of her bag before I have even reached them. I gasp loudly as I see the boy's mangled bloody leg bent crookedly beneath him. The bone has punctured through the skin. He looks delirious with pain. My stomach churns violently and I see white spots behind my eyes. I blink furiously to rid my vision of the cloudiness.

When I get my wits about me I urge his brother to go get their parents. The younger boy runs off, back toward the Seam. Josephine administers a small dosage of morphling and props the boy's leg up on her knees. She moves it gently.

"Arwen, I need you to reach in the bag and get us both a pair of gloves, then hand me the scalpel. Use the sanitation pads to cleanse it beforehand," Josephine says evenly.

She sooths the boy with gentle words, but her eyes are fierce showing the calculations she is making in her head. It must have been a very high fall for a break this terrible. I do as she says, carefully putting on gloves and helping her into her own. I clean the scalpel and then together we clean the bloodied area of his leg.

I want to turn away, but my eyes are glued to the scalpel as Josephine glides it down the boy's shin. He has finally drifted into a morphling induced sleep. I watch as she spreads the incision and attempts to glide the bone back into a more proper alignment. She has me apply pressure to the area as she sutures his leg shut and then prepares the splint. We sanitize the leg before she wraps his splint firmly. My fingers quake slightly as I lift them away from his frail little body. A frightened woman approaches as we finish up, followed closely by an older boy.

As Josephine explains the brief procedure and the conditions of caring for the wound I find my mind drifting off. The adrenaline of the moment seized me in a firm grasp and now I feel the rush ebbing away. I absently pack up the supplies as the older brother carries our little patient home. I must look sheet white, because Josephine laughs when she looks back at me.

"You did well Arwen," she encourages.

I feel myself nodding, but my body feels a little numb. Josephine pats my arm and vows to walk me home. I vaguely hear her talking about her first experiences with patients of her own. She'd grown up watching her parents, but it was different when the life was in her hands. Josephine pats my forearm delicately again as she parts from me at the front of my house.

I walk in expecting everything to be heavy with silence, the way it was last night and this morning. It's not though. I hear Hazelle and Gale talking heatedly as I enter. I slip off my shoes and hesitantly walk into the room, knowing they probably already heard me anyway. Posy is doodling a picture as she sits at the table beside her mother. Gale is pacing back and forth a few feet away. Everyone turns to look at me. Hazelle and Gale both look slightly guilty and I know they've been discussing me. Gale quickly averts his gaze from my face. Posy knits her eyebrows and stares at my clothes.

"Arwen, you're covered in red stuff!" She chimes, her eyes alighting over me.

I can see the rainbow she's coloring on her blue tinted paper. It's multicolored and shaped slightly crooked, but the image is cheery and energetic just like her. I look down at the offending "red stuff" that is covering my top and trousers. I'm covered in blood. I hadn't noticed it. My palm hovers over a large patch of it on my stomach, before I wrench my hand away. Hazelle looks concerned.

"Why don't you go change dear? We'll have time to talk when you're done," Hazelle's soft voice advises.

I nod absently and backtrack toward the bedroom to change. I shakily slip out of the bloodied clothes and find a cotton dress to slip on instead. I bring the clothes to the kitchen, but I feel foolish asking Hazelle what I should do with them. Luckily she already has a suggestion before I need to ask.

"You'll want to set those clothes in cold water to soak; it'll pull stains out better. I can take them with me to scrub for you," Hazelle suggests.

Hazelle being a washerwoman has merits, but I don't want her to think I'm helpless. I flush at the thought of needing this woman already, but I follow her advice and set the clothes in the sink. I pump quite a bit of cold water on them and turn back to the group of Hawthornes with slightly bated breath.

"Gale and Mama hung your curtains and we brought cookies from my math tutor Ms. Madge!" Posy tells me excitedly. My eyes drift to the pale blue cloth hanging from the windows, then to the plate of uneaten cookies on the table. I don't have the stomach to eat tonight, let alone the ability to consume something sweet. I'm used to bland foods.

"Thank you," I muster a standard acknowledgement. Hazelle eyes me warily.

She places her hand on her daughter's small shoulder, "Posy, go out and play in the yard. Maybe you can find a new pet rock."

The little girl looks flustered for a second and I imagine she will start to argue her desire to color, but she looks up at her mother's stern face and quickly heads toward the door. When she has officially exited the house Hazelle beckons me forward with her hand. I slowly approach the table and take the seat that Posy vacated. It is still slightly warm from the heat of her small body. Hazelle clears her throat and glares at the back of her son's head. Gale takes the cue and turns toward her with a meaningful gaze. He sighs, heaving his shoulders before he takes the seat across from me.

"Are you alright dear?" Hazelle asks me softly. I stare at the wood grain of the table and nod.

"It will be tough for a while, but you'll get used to it. Healer Everdeen will do right by you, teach you all you need to know," She assures me with a gentle voice and the warm pressure of her hand on mine.

I let her squeeze my fist on the tabletop. I can't look at either of them right now. I have a sinking feeling that this discussion won't be a light friendly chat about the weather. Gale's finger nail picks at a groove in the table, emitting a quiet click-click-click.

I clear the mucous in the back of my throat and allow myself to speak, "If you want to discuss my duty I am willing to, but my thoughts might be in another place. I just need time to adjust to seeing patients in distress."

I look first into Hazelle's oval shaped eyes. Her face is full of understanding, but I can see the underlying worry for our future. Our future weighs out stronger in her mind; because she brings up the exact topic I am dreading within the next minute.

"I don't think it is necessary for me to warn you about the Capitol's vision of our _duty_ ," Hazelle begins, "But I will say it anyway, you must adhere to their policies sooner than later. They will come looking for answers, looking for pregnancies, and though now is not the time to force this on you I want you to be prepared."

"How much time do they give couples who have a high genetic probability?" Gale asks. I finally let my eyes slip in his direction. He is staring down at my hands, one of which is still curled beneath his mother's palm.

"Not long at all, a few months at best," Hazelle sighs.

I feel tears threatening to brim in my eyes. This day has been too much. I still haven't come to terms with my fate and discussing it outright only breeds more fear. To top it off, I've just witnessed a surgical procedure. Hazelle senses the tension in my body and squeezes my palm harder. Finally, the barrier bursts and the tears stream down my cheeks. I feel myself shaking, but everything seems distant. _I don't want to sleep with a man I barely know_.

"Oh no, dear don't cry. It's alright, you've got some time. I didn't mean to frighten you, I just want to make sure you are looking out for yourselves," Hazelle immediately folds me into her arms. She presses me against her, with my face nestled in the crook of her neck.

The sensation is too motherly again and I'm hit with the loss of my own mother once more. This only makes me cry harder. Hazelle rocks me against her bosom, patting my back gently. I feel like a small child, which is humiliating. Gale's chair scrapes across the floor as he stands. I hear the handle of the pump squeak as he retrieves me a glass of water. I sniffle loudly as I carefully take it from his hand. Hazelle dabs at the corner of my eyes and I take a long swig of cold water. Over the brim of my glass I can see the pained expression on Gale's face. _What is he thinking?_

Somehow the moment dissolves. We eat a hastily cooked dinner and bid farewell to Hazelle and Posy. I find myself being ushered into the bedroom by Gale as darkness settles in. He guides me toward the bed and retrieves clothing to change into outside our room. When he returns he pulls the covers back and slides in next to me. We sit in silence for a long time.

Finally, Gale's voice drifts to me in the darkened room, "I want you to know. I will never hurt you. Not like that." The bed shifts as he turns toward me.

"I won't force myself on you to meet the Capitol's needs. I hate them and I won't bow down to them in that way," his voice is firm.

"I know," I whisper into the darkness.

"Someday though, they'll come for us. If all it takes to keep them from hurting people we love is to do our _duty_ , then I will cooperate," I shake as I let the words slip past my lips.

Gale huffs beside me and I feel the hot breath across my face, "I won't. I'd rather die than take that part of you. Nothing that vile can be for the good of Panem." With that he turns his back to me and settles in to sleep.


	6. A Field of Gold

Two weeks go by with short conversations for necessity and awkward silent meals. Gale and I don't discuss the thing that weighs most heavily on our minds. We tip-toe around each other, only speaking to discuss trivial things or to plan activities. Gale's siblings make a point to stop in and say their hellos. Even Hazelle stops by once to check up on me.

Things go on like this and though I can't bring myself to say so aloud, I wish that Gale would just go back to being the kind interested man that he was that first night. Things are amicable enough presently, but it was so comforting when he told me about his family's life and I shared the story of my own. Gale's stories were funny and filled with love. And maybe it is that loving comfort that I long to see now, anything as opposed to the silence and formality.

It's more difficult on nights when Gale is late from work. He'll show up when the dinner meal is growing cold. Every night he'll be covered in coal and need to wash his face and hands thoroughly before he eats. I try not to grow frustrated with the way that I can never get his meal to him warm anymore, the frustration is ludicrous. Its very presence in my body reminds me that it only exists because the Capitol wanted me to feel inadequate in comparison to my husband. They embedded so many rules into us that I openly followed, but Gale's very contradiction of them made me notice their grasp on me all the more.

Gale would never hold me to the Capitol standards, yet my brain so often forgets this. All of the rules and regulations ingrained in my mind had at first battled with his non-conforming ways. Now, with him acting so cold and formal the venomous thoughts of duty have reared their ugly heads, reverberating off me like the answering howls of coyotes. _I can't protect myself from my own mind._

I dream of my home. I dream of having friends. I dream of sharing a friendship with Gale. Sometimes it feels like I'm adrift in the waves of wheat, with coyotes circling in, waiting for me to falter. Then a thought clambers out and bites me and after that I hear them howling at me, biting at my heels as I carry on throughout my days. _Care for your husband_ , they say as we eat in silence. _Sacrifice for your husband_ , they say as I rub my hands raw washing our linens and dishes _. Live only to serve your husband_ , they say as I watch him tiredly wash the coal dust from his body.

"Let me help you with that," I murmur. Gale pauses in his scrubbing, a wet trail of coal stained water dribbling from his forearm where the cloth has stopped.

He clears his throat and keeps scrubbing, "I'm fine, thanks."

I step forward from the table where I have set out the potatoes and the meager amount of roast rabbit. Gale only gets to hunt on the weekends, so I've grown accustomed to the lack of meat throughout most of the week. I leave the food and stand at his elbow. Gale glances down at me as he continues to rinse his cloth and scrub away the coal. I reach forward and place both of my hands of the fist that he has wrapped around the cloth.

"Please, let me help. You look tired," I protest when he doesn't loosen his grip on the cloth.

I can't read his expression as he finally relents and allows me to take up the cloth and soap. I lather the cloth more thoroughly with the coarse soap and pump some water over it. I make quick work, but try to remain gentle on his sore muscles. I wash his forearms, hands, and face. Gale watches me the entire time, studying me. He leans forward to allow me to reach his face more easily. Then he offers me a soft almost-smile.

"We should go on a walk after dinner, it's unseasonably warm this evening," Gale suggests as I scrub the last of the coal from his forehead.

"That sounds lovely," I say as I declare him clean.

He murmurs a thank you and we sit down to eat in a more companionable silence. My heart seems to be fluttering a little with the anticipation of actually doing something together that doesn't involve the necessities of life. I clean up the dishes as Gale goes to our bedroom to change out of his mine uniform into something more comfortable. He emerges a few minutes later wearing brown trousers with a patch on the knee and a green tunic.

"Ready?" Gale asks raising his eyebrows. I nod simply and follow him to get my shoes. As we exit the house, I note that it does seem warmer than it has the past few nights. Gale and I stroll side by side following the line of the forest, heading along the fence. Crickets sing merrily from the tall grasses and the ground feels moist under my boots.

"I've been avoiding you and I'm sorry about that," Gale admits with a reluctant tone as we walk further from our house. I look up at him, surprised. I have things to apologize for too, but have no idea what is relevant to him.

"I'm sorry too. I'm trying not to let my schooling overtake me, but it's difficult for us women," I look up at the stars twinkling above us, avoiding Gale's gaze.

"My mother never wanted me to be the man that they tell us to be," Gale says. He picks up a stick and begins swinging it at low tree branches as we pass them.

"I can be strong-willed and pig-headed, but I'm not one to force a woman to do my bidding," he says, laughing as he puts his weaker points down. I release a small laugh too, remembering our first argument. He wouldn't back down.

"Maybe you're strong-willed enough for the both of us. I tend to be too timid," I offer. Gale whacks a branch with his stick and leaves shimmy loudly, rustling against each other.

"I like you the way you are Arwen," Gale stops walking and faces me abruptly; "I want to try to be friends. I'm not too good at it, but I've got a few."

"That's very sweet Gale and I would like that too. And I'm sorry that I yelled at you about your 'other job'. I admire your bravery, I truly do," I blush as I compliment my husband. I can't tell in the darkness, but I think he smiles before he starts walking again.

"So, what's your favorite hobby?" Gale asks suddenly, whacking another branch.

"Well, I quite like basket-weaving. I learned that from my mother. Though she's a great deal better than me. I enjoy stories too, reading and telling my own. My mother always had so many mountain legends for us when we were children," I find myself grinning as I think about all the stories that I could tell Gale someday.

"I like whittling. I make little wooden animals for Posy to play with. I like flat-footing too," Gale offers.

"What's flat-footing?" I ask, turning to him in the dim-light of a nearby house.

"It's a type of dancing we have here. You have to be light on our feet; the lighter you are the better you are. It's quiet, if there is too much noise it's not flatfootin'. Catnip is pretty good at it we try to compete against each other," he laughs, likely thinking of a time or to that he spent dancing with the girl.

"I enjoy dancing too, we do a lot of group ring and line dances in 9. Maybe we can show each other our dances some time," I suggest, delighted by the prospect of sharing something new to bond in friendship over.

Gale makes a sound of contented agreement, "Maybe we'll get over to a neighborhood dance one-a these days. I bet you'd enjoy it." I smile brightly. I haven't been to a dance in quite a while. In District 9 we have barn dances that last a majority of the evening with fiddlers and guitars. It's usually a rowdy time with plenty of coyote soup and wheat malt liquor to go around.

"I would like that very much," I say happily as we turn around to walk back toward our house.

* * *

On Saturday, Vick and Rory take me to the far side of the Seam. Having spent the afternoon entertaining them to keep them out of Hazelle's hair as she finished a particularly large laundry order, I was easy to convince to go on an adventure outside the home. The boys quickly decide on a trip to the Meadow in search of berries. We set out with the sweet treat in mind.

As we walk to the Meadow Vick skips ahead, singing a silly song and smiling back at us every once in a while. Rory tells me about how Prim's goat tried to eat Katniss' leather jacket yesterday. I giggle with him for several minutes. Rory's laugh is infectious and his antics remind me of Bronwyn. I feel a tinge of guilt that someone else is making me laugh; _someone has replaced my sister as my source of entertainment_. I grimace slightly and walk the rest of the way in silence.

When we reach the meadow Rory and Vick race each other across to a large berry bush on the far side. They come back empty handed with downcast faces. Apparently, someone else has picked the bush over. I barely pay them any mind though, because I am entranced by the tall blades of grass that are covering the area around us. I fall to my knees and grasp large handfuls of it.

"What are you doing?" Rory asks as he stands over me.

I laugh, because my stance must look slightly crazed, but I just can't believe what I'm holding. I peer at each stalk of large golden grass, which really isn't grass at all. I start to laugh out loud until tears stream down my face. Vick looks scared as he falls to his knees beside me and peers into my face. I laugh because each stalk has a rachis on the top filled with little spikelets.

"It's wild wheat! Real-life wild wheat!" I beam as I look up at Rory through my tears. Vick leans closer and peers at the blades in my hands. I wipe my tears on my sleeve and run my fingers up the blade popping the seeds out of the rachis as I go. I sprinkle the handful into the breeze and let them fly with another laugh.

I grasp another blade and hold it in front of Vick, "See these little pouches, they're seeds." Vick beams back at me and pops one of them open to examine it.

I run my hands through the tall blades. Rory kneels beside me and follows Vick's gesture. Of course wild wheat hasn't been treated by Capitol growth hormones or any type of genetic modifications so it maintains its regular growing cycle. It's lush and bronze colored, stiff in its readiness for harvest. Wild wheat is ready in the late summer and early fall. Whereas back home the wheat has already ripened and will have numerous growing cycles thanks to its modifications.

"Does this field always turn golden in the fall?" I ask Rory. I can barely contain my excitement. He nods and looks around us.

 _I bet no one here ever knew they were sitting in a field of food_. The idea fills me with a cynical laugh, all the starving citizens here and no one realizing that they had a grain field on the edge of the district. I simply can't believe that a single person contracted here from District 9 hasn't come upon this field and seen that it's covered in wild wheat. Yet, maybe they did and were just simply too scared to harvest it and try to grind it into flour. It would take an immense amount of work without all the proper tools.

"It's so beautiful, it's like seeing home again," I whisper as I let my eyes run over the expanse of field. It is lovely in its unkempt, uninhibited way. Rory smiles at me sadly and Vick grips my hand in his. I peer down at him as I run my thumb softly over the back of his hand. He reminds me of Tomik in so many ways.

"Thank you for bringing me here," I smooth my hand over Vick's thick hair and squeeze Rory's shoulder with my other hand. They both smile. _I wonder if Gale ever smiled like this as a boy_. His brothers look so much like him; _he must have a beautiful smile_.

Rory picks a tall stalk of the wild wheat and tries to tickle me with it. Then the boys are rolling about trying to tickle each other. I watch them contentedly until I see Gale appear in the tree line behind the fence. Seeing someone, well not just anyone, seeing Gale standing behind the fence is eerily thrilling. It is forbidden to be beyond the fence, to illegally steal from the Capitol, and most of all to break rules. I can't pull my eyes away from the strange sight of him beyond our world, so I just stare openly at him. Gale stares back at me, appraising me with a quizzical look.

Rory looks up at me, and then follows my gaze to the forest. He stands, smiling as he waves at his brother. Gale crawls through the metal wires with his giant game bag. He walks slowly towards us, still focusing his sharp eyes on me, perhaps gauging my reaction to his sudden appearance. He offers a tentative smirking smile when I don't scold him. And because I am so thrilled with my new discovery of the wheat I let a genuine smile flash back at him. We haven't been this amicable toward each other since the day we discussed my family as we looked at their portrait.

"Gale, did you know this field is made of wild wheat? Just like in District 9!" Vick says excitedly as he plucks another blade and hands it to his older brother.

Gale examines it for a moment and Vick shows him the seeds. There isn't an ounce of surprise in Gale's eyes as he looks at the wheat. He recognizes it, so he already knew what this field held. He lets his brothers bask in the glory of learning something new though. I store this new information away in the back of my mind to ask him about another day.

"Yeah, Arwen fell on her knees and cried when she saw it. For a moment we thought she had lost her mind," Rory laughs and tries to tickle me with a long blade of wheat again. I roll my eyes and bat him away with my hand.

Gale smirks down at me, gracing me with an affectionate look. It surprises me and makes me feel flush. He leans down to help me to my feet. I feel the blush ripen on my cheeks at the gentle feel of his hand against the small of my back and the warmness of his palm in mine. He releases me and listens intently as Vick and Rory excitedly tell him about the seeds in the stalks.

I fold my arms and glance out across the field as I listen to the boys. The golden stalks shiver in the breeze, but don't roll in the wave-like formations of my home. To see that this wild strand has survived and prospered here in such an unlikely place, it fills me with a sense of hope. I'm not much unlike this wheat, far from home and working against odds bigger than myself. Perhaps, I will prosper here too, growing stronger each year and spreading further into this new world.

"Well, I better get going. Lots of trading," Gale declares finally. Vick grabs my hand to hold it as we begin back down the path toward the Seam. I smile down at him and catch Gale's eyes when I look up once more.

Vick begins to tell Gale about the woodsmen in the folk legend I entertained him with earlier. Vick is a good listener; he barely missed any of the details I provided. Gale laughs when Vick says that he is brave like the man in my story. He tries to deny that he has any similarities to my folklore, but I just shake my head in disagreement, which causes Rory to laugh. I smirk when I feel Gale's eyes on me again, because despite his surly demeanor Gale does fit the description of the woodsmen expertly.

* * *

I spend the remainder of the week working with Healer Everdeen and day-dreaming about the jolt of excited energy I got when I saw Gale standing beyond the fence. I begin to wonder what lies in the world beyond our confines. Every morning Gale rises early to head to work, but he rises even earlier on the weekends when he can hunt.

This weekend is no different than the others that have come before it. Gale rises before the sun, dresses, eats and is out the door within a half-hour. After he has left the house I find myself staring out the windows at the changing leaves of the forest. I eat a quick breakfast meal, hastily washing my dishes as I make up my mind to take a walk.

At half past 10 I start walking back to the meadow. I tell myself that I am just going to admire the wheat and spend some time alone, but deep down I know I am going to the place where I saw Gale. I walk the path, admiring the view ahead of me as I come into the field. It's beautiful, but fills my heart with an ache that has become too familiar. _No matter how hard I try, my heart won't let my old life go_.

I walk toward the spot where Gale had passed through the dead fence and come to a stop a mere 10 yards from it. My curiosity is tempted by the deafening silence of the fence, yet common sense and survival instincts tell me that it could become electrified at any moment. I war with myself for several minutes, cautiously reaching my hand toward the metal wires. I can't fathom how Gale ever worked up the nerve to cross the fence all those years ago, but perhaps losing his father filled him with a lack of self-preservation. I stand staring at it for a number of minutes before I take the tentative steps forward and examine the spot where I saw him appear only a week ago.

The fence is silent, but I am still afraid to grab it. What if it were to turn on just as I wrap my hand around it! I inhale several deep breaths before I take the thick barbed wire in my hands and pull it up so that I may step through. My dress snags slightly on one of the barbs as I slide all the way through. I examine the hole briefly and deem it easy enough to fix. _I'll sew it when I get back to the house, it's nothing,_ I reason.

When I let my eyes rise up to the expanse before me, I feel an immense sense of freedom. All my life I've been inside a fence. Yes, my home district had miles and miles of wide open land, but the feeling of being trapped was always there; always lingering in the back of my mind. I clutch my hand to my heart for a moment and try to imagine if this forest is like the one my mother grew up in.

When I turn back to the fence and peer at the place where I had just come from I laugh. It is strange being on the outside, looking in on the life that is supposed to contain me. I swivel back to the forest and gingerly walk to the nearest tree. The bark is hard, course, and strange on my skin. The next few trees are dark green with little prickly needles. The smell is sharp, but pleasant. I breathe deeply, inhaling the fragrant air. It's a familiar scent, I realize. It is the smell that seems to permeate Gale's skin. I have learned to know it as we lay in our bed at night, or when I walk past his hunting coat where it hangs in our entryway.

For several minutes I wander through the trees, examining things. There are a number of strange ferns and flowers growing on the forest floor. In some places the trees are so dense, they completely block the sunlight. In other places it filters down in beams. Great boulders covered in moss rise from the depths of the earth, surrounded by bushes full of berries.

I startle when a rabbit scurries out from beneath one of the hearty shrubs that flanks a set of mossy rocks. The quick skipping of my heart beat patters as the animal scurries away. My gasp of shock lends to a jovial laugh of relief. I've seen rabbits in textbooks at school, but we did not have many in the fields of 9. This is the first animal I have witnessed in 12, besides the birds, which have also proven to be quite pleasant.

I continue to explore with wide eyes, taking in all that is new and different from the barren grassy lands of my childhood. My mind can barely process all the new details; everything is beautiful in one way or another. When Gale comes here does he feel this way, amazed by every sight and sound? _Probably not, he seems all business and no fun_. He views the forest as a place for an extra food source. I hope that it still carries a raw beauty for him in some way.

There are birds singing melodies in the treetops and strange noises coming from the distance. _Could there really be animals in here large enough to attack me_? I shake the thought and continue exploring. My ears tune to a bubbling noise and I follow it mindlessly for a moment until I come upon a stream.

The water is cool and clear. In a thinner portion there is a bridge of rocks, blocking the flow of the water. Between them there are some twigs nestled together. I kneel down to free them, but something about the way they are folded seems unnatural. I examine it further and see that there is actually wire and twine holding it in place. _It's a trap_! I glance upstream and see a similar design nestled under a fallen log. I walk further upstream looking for more of the intricate snares.

I count twelve before I find one that has caught a strange animal that isn't readily recognizable to me. The fur is thick and brown, matted in the water of the stream. It has a large wide tale that is black. It looks odd, but I imagine it helps the animal swim. Its face is buried in the water, unmoving. I stare at it for a long time, wondering how painful it would be to have your back or neck broken. I imagine my own body snared in a trap such as this; pain and fear, followed by drowning. _There couldn't be a worse way to go._

I don't know what possesses me, but I grab a large fallen branch from the ground and march back to the nearest untouched snare. I remove my boots and socks and wade into the water. It is freezing, but the supple sensation of it billowing between my legs is pleasant. The hem of my dress skims the surface of the water as I wade toward the snare. I examine it closer, studying its design. It's intricate and expertly placed. If something swam through here it would undoubtedly swim through without hesitation. Whoever placed it here did so with the utmost care. You would have to think long and hard about animals and their instincts to know where they would likely swim. That is a devoted amount of concentration.

I jab the branch into the trap and watch it spring to life. Several things happen at once: it jolts to the side, swings round, and squeezes. The force of it pulls the branch forward slightly, which probably would have scared me enough to drop it. The more frightening thing is the deep voice that reverberates off the trees and scares me enough for me to fling the branch down in surprise.

"What the-" the person sounds just as surprised as I am. I turn quickly to face the man. My heart jumps into my throat as my eyes meet Gale's. First he looks surprised, then angry. I try to calm myself as I realize it is _only my husband, not another hunter or worse, a peacekeeper_.

"Oh. You scared me," I breathe.

My eyes glide over the length of his body. His hair is tousled. His large leather game bag is slung over his shoulder, pulling at the crook of his neck. Two dead rabbits dangle from his belt and a large knife is gripped in his right hand. My mind quickly calculates what it would look and feel like to have that knife driven into my heart. I blink rapidly at the thought.

Something about Gale's appearance and the surroundings makes my heart skip for an entirely different reason. He looks like he belongs here. A man of the wilderness, a mountain man, like the ones my mother spoke about in her folk legends. If only Tomik could see him now, if only Vick and Rory could witness how their brother truly is a modern-legend. How wildly dangerous and striking he looks. It's enough to make my knees weak. Brenna would probably swoon and fall right into the water. I shake my head and look away for a moment, swallowing thickly. This entire image fits so well with the tale that I spun for his brothers only a week ago. _He was made for such stories._

"What the hell are you doing out here?" He asks. The anger is evident in his voice. He stalks forward and stands at the water's edge eyeing me. I grasp my dress in both hands, hoisting it up as I wade toward him to retrieve my socks and boots.

"Exploring," I say timidly. He barks a short laugh, rolling his eyes as he buries his knife in a leather pouch hanging on his belt. He shakes his head and looks around.

"You think this is a game? Coming out here? It's not safe," his anger is still biting in his tone, but his face is less rigid. The grass sticks to the soles of my feet as I step onto the bank and walk gingerly to my belongings. I let him continue berating me as I slip my wet feet into my socks.

"It's no place to go gallivanting around. It's dangerous. You could have gotten lost, or killed by a bear," He stands over me, tall and almost menacing. I peer up at him and hope that my face looks apologetic enough for him to calm down. His eyes dance over my expression and immediately I see them soften.

"It's beautiful out here. I see why you love it, besides you come here all the time…it can't be that dangerous," I murmur. He dangles his large hand down to help pull me to my feet and simply frowns at my words. We both look around for a moment, taking in the forest that surrounds us.

"Are these yours?" I ask as I gesture to the traps in the stream.

He nods as he places his bag on the ground beside my feet. The water barely goes halfway up his shins as he steps into the stream to untangle the snare that I set off. His tall boots protect him from the water as he works. He throws the branch up on the bank beside me. I am mesmerized as his long nimble fingers retie the trap with extraordinary ease.

"They're so complex. The design is very intricate. Did you learn to do that on your own?" I am entranced as I watch him. He nods once more and wades down the stream checking each snare. I pick up his game bag and am surprised by the heavy weight. I clutch it to my shoulder to keep it in place as I follow him. I walk along the bank, watching the look of concentration on his features.

The trapped animal that I examined earlier is easily untangled by his expert hands. He wades toward me, smiling slightly as I unravel his game bag for him and place it on the bank. He nods a thank you while he places the strange animal inside.

"What is that thing?" I ask timidly before he returns to reset his snare.

"A beaver. They gnaw on logs and make dams in the water that block the flow, so they can live in big watery swamps with little mud houses."

"You make it sound like they're people," I laugh lightly.

"They're nothing more than a meal to fill your stomach," He says curtly. I squirm, imagining his hands cutting the fur from the beaver and ripping the bones out.

"They'll crawl right over their dead to keep moving down stream. That's why I set up these traps one right after the other. Muskrats are the same way," Gale explains, gesturing to the traps down-stream. Each one is barricaded in the only open paths of the stream. The animals would have no choice but to go right where Gale wants them.

"I'm done for the day; I got a good enough haul to trade. Katniss can manage the rest, so I'll take you home now," Gale says as he wades back toward me.

I'm taller standing on the bank like this, something about him being shin deep in water makes him feel more vulnerable to my position, as though I have some power being higher up here. I suddenly imagine what would happen if it was not me he had happened upon, but a Peacekeeper. What if someday he is here resetting these snares and he turns to find a Peacekeeper standing up here on this bank? He'll be in a position of weakness.

I must have a dazed expression on my face, because Gale furrows his brows at me as he steps out of the water. He takes up the game bag, putting the two rabbits on his belt into the bag as well before he shoulders it easily. He is much stronger than I am and I see that the weight of the bag doesn't impede him much as we begin walking back through the forest. Gale's tread is near-silent as he leads the way through the trees. He pulls back low branches that could get caught on my dress and points toward interesting sights as we near the fence-line.

We round a large group of boulders when we hear a low whistle. Gale holds up a hand to stop me. I freeze as he presses a few fingers on his left hand against his lip, as though shushing me. He pauses before he whistles back. Two quick lilts of a whistle answer him. The sound is sharp and smooth like the call of a bird, but something about the tone seems to hint otherwise.

"That's Katniss, it's safe to cross in front of her now," he explains.

I nod as he points toward the boulders and holds up one finger, indicating that he wants me to wait a moment. Katniss' dark head emerges from behind one of the boulders; her smile falters as she catches sight of me over Gale's shoulder. Her brow furrows in concern.

"Is something wrong? What are you doing here?" She asks, pulling herself out of her crevice. My eyes widen at the large bow in her hands. I've seen that in a book too, it was a weapon used by one of the famous spies during the Great War.

"She's exploring apparently," Gale informs her with a lilt of disapproval to his voice. Katniss frowns at his words.

"That's a stupid idea, it's dangerous out here," Katniss scolds.

Apparently, she agrees with my husband's sentiments, "I thought you were a deer the way you were walking so loudly for starters, but there are bear and wolves out here that would be worse than one of my arrows in your chest." I grimace at the image of Katniss accidently shooting me.

"Well, I'm going to make sure she makes it out of here and gets home. You got the rest of the snares from here Catnip?" Gale queries as Katniss leans against the large boulder that was shielding her a few moments ago. She taps her bow against her side as though thinking about the proposition of finishing up the snares, but eventually nods.

"Yeah, go babysit your wife. Leave me to the real work," Katniss releases haughtily. If I didn't know that she isn't a completely placid faced person all the time, I would think that she was being snidely serious. She breaks into a smile when Gale offers her a childish glare. Their banter seems almost like a brotherly-sisterly bond now. _How could I have ever thought they loved each other otherwise? Well, maybe they could have if it weren't for contracts._

We bid Katniss farewell and head toward the fence once more. Gale's anger seems to have dissipated greatly and I remember that I should apologize for doing something reckless. The fence comes into view as I settle on the nerve to offer my apology sooner than later. _Be the ever mindful wife_ , I tell myself. _A good wife would have the decency to apologize_ , I chide.

"I'm sorry if I angered you Gale," I whisper once we've reached the un-electrified wires. We are shaded behind a large bushy tree as Gale peers out to check whether it is safe to emerge. He glances back at me with a strange expression before he nods his acceptance of my apology.

"Just don't do it again, we can only afford one treasonous person in this family," he replies, voice low. Then he rounds the tree and glides through the wires before he holds them open for me.

I hold my dress tight in my hands to bunch it up and begin to step over the lower wire. Gale grabs onto the fabric to prevent it from snagging as I step through. He drops his hold on my dress and swivels quickly when we both hear a twig snap. He looks toward some trees that are in a bunch along the fence twenty yards away. It can't be a peacekeeper, because they would already be on us with their guns raised. We hear a low moan and I realize that it is a sound of pain. My panic subsides quickly as I run toward the sound.

I pull back the branches of the bushes and find a young woman sprawled out on her back, clutching at her stomach with shaking hands. Her faded yellow dress is hiked up to her waste and drenched in blood. Her thighs and hands are covered in it as well. I kneel beside her and realize that she's younger than I thought, merely a teenage girl. Sweat sheens along her forehead and her grey eyes are glazed. She feels cold to the touch and I know immediately that she has lost too much blood already.

I look up toward my husband, readying to demand that he run to Healer Everdeen. My words catch painfully in my throat as I set eyes on what he has found in the underbrush. A bloody glob, too ill-formed to survive, lies lifeless in the dirt. It's a baby. Beside it Gale kicks his boot at some blood coated mining utensils, likely used to extract it like a piece of blackened coal, as though it were a lifeless object.

"Go!" I tell him as I shake myself from my daze. Gale startles for a moment and looks at me wildly. His expression is filled with a youth that I should recognize in myself, but I'm already hardened to the things that Healer Everdeen told me I would learn to be. I'm learning to become the things that a Healer needs to be.

I point toward the Seam and hoarsely yell at him, "Go now. Get Healer Everdeen, hurry Gale!" And with that, he is off, running quickly toward my mentor. I don't waste time pulling back the bloodied clothing of my charge. She focuses on me with wild eyes as more tears glide down her cheeks. She's frightened and I don't know what else do, but to tell her that I'm here for her, so I do just that.

"My name is Arwen. I'm Healer Everdeen's assistant. My husband is going to find her and I am going to do the best I can to help you in the meantime." The girl nods and groans loudly again. Her bloody shaking fingers press into her abdomen, but I know that they won't be able to quell the pain she is feeling. She closes her eyes against the agony and moans through her gritted teeth.

"What's your name?" I ask her softly as I start pulling the bloody fabric away from her legs.

Whoever did this to her, left a mangled mess behind. As the fabric is shifted to the side I get my first glance at the damage. It nearly makes my stomach churn, but I push the feeling back down. I can see that they weren't gentle or precise when they did this; maybe they panicked and decided to leave her for dead. I try to keep my face placid as I examine her injuries.

"Charlotte," the girl chokes out her name finally. I pat her knee and try to smile at her.

"That's a pretty name. Charlotte, everything will be sorted out soon. When Healer Everdeen arrives with her bag we'll get you cleaned up and taken care of," I glance over my shoulder and try to see around the bushes, but I can't catch a glimpse of anyone coming up the path.

"Now Charlotte, I need you to tell me what happened here so that I can help you," I say as I start trying to rip the bloody skirt of her dress away.

"I'm fifteen – if the Capitol found out – I…," she cries out, "it hurts so much. I thought he knew what he was doing." I blanch and look back at the mining equipment. She might never be able to have a child again after this, _what will the Capitol do to this girl then_? She'll be of no use to them.

"He just dug those tools in and that was it," she gasps.

"Arwen, I found her," Gale's voice carries up the hill before he bounds around the side of the trees, out of breath. "She had me bring you supplies."

He glances away quickly when he catches sight of the bared flesh before him. He turns his back and I see that he has several bags of supplies with him and a white fold out stretcher. I quickly pull out one of the bags and begin sanitizing my hands and beginning the process of preparing for the Healer. Gale unfolds the stretcher and lays it in the grass. I cover it with a white sheet and pull more sanitation equipment out.

"Can you help me lift her on to the stretcher?" I ask my husband with a stern voice. He nods and I cover her legs with a white sheet so that we can lift her up modestly. Charlotte screams as we lift and lower her onto the other sheet. In the next heartbeat, Josephine runs up to us with her medical kit in hand. She quickly looks down at our patient and nods at me.

Gale stands back as Josephine and I sanitize the injured area and set to work tending the wounds. Josephine makes quick work to stop the bleeding and sew up the tearing. It's as though she has done this before and I find myself wondering how many girls get in a troubling situation such as this across Panem. The idea is terrifying, but it causes me to face a fact that my naivety had no conscious thought of before.

Not every girl waits until her contract to engage in the activities that are expected to only occur between contract partners. I was so blind by my own urge to follow the rules, that the thought of being with boys before being contracted had rarely crossed my mind. When we have stabilized Charlotte Gale helps us carry her on the stretcher back to Josephine's home.

Gale decides to go back to the field to take care of the baby and the tools immediately after we arrive. He offers to complete the task and I can't bring myself to protest. I stay with Josey and help her continue to care for Charlotte. Josey sends Prim to alert the girl's family to her being here. There will be no official Capitol notice sent. This is not a case that Josey will record in our medical records.

 _Abortion is not an option in Panem_.

* * *

Charlotte eventually slips into a drug-induced haze and I allow myself to sit back and rest for a moment. Josey washes her hands in the sanitation basin she has set out on the table. She begins to blend a tea for the girl's family as we watch and wait. Charlotte has lost so much blood that it is likely she will be too weak to recover. We can't give her any blood fusions. We don't have the means to explain how we lost so much stock and products without having to tell the Capitol about the girl's situation. This will have to be an under-the-rug job. Josey doesn't have to tell me that, because I already know that is why she hasn't gotten any of our blood fusion stores out.

Josey sets out two mugs and fills them with hot mint water. She hands one of the mugs to me and sits beside me at the table. We sip quietly for a few moments before Josey places her mug on the tabletop. She thumbs at the handle of the mug as she speaks, "I've been trying for years to meet my contract quota." She pauses and shakes her head, "Just one more baby, that's all we have ever needed."

"When my husband died, I never thought that I would love another man again. Even though he's an old schmuck I have a soft spot for Haymitch that I never dreamed I would develop. He can be kind and he deserves to have another child. Besides that, it's mandatory that we do." She takes a long sip and looks over at our ward, "It has been so hard for me, but here we are saving girls like her that don't even try to have it happen for them. It isn't fair to them and yet sometimes I feel bitter about it."

I place my hand over Josey's shoulder and try to reassure her, but I don't know what to say. It makes sense that she would feel this way, but just as I was faced with my naivety earlier, I am too young to truly know Josey's pain.

"I'm sorry to hear that," I finally say. Josey nods grimly.

"I've had two miscarriages and now…" She stops, shaking her head bitterly.

"Now what?" I ask in the softest voice I can muster. Josey looks up, her eyes shining bright cobalt as they shimmer with water. I grip my mug and bite the inside of my cheek. I hate to see people cry.

"My cycles been off for a few months, it could only be menopause. It's over for Haymitch and me. This year was probably our last chance," she sighs and takes a long sip of her tea.

Josey is old enough to be menopausal, but I don't want to just leave her situation at that without knowing for sure. I glance over at Charlotte, her slumber is quiet. She might not have taken her health courses yet, the ones that discussed cycles and all the things necessary for creating new life. She probably didn't understand when she had trouble with her monthly time.

"Would you be comfortable with letting me administer a blood test and urine sampling?" I find myself asking the question before I truly think about it.

Josey looks shocked for a moment, and then she furrows her brow, likely calculating whether there is any hope that this is a pregnancy rather than menopause. I'd rather not know about her sexual life with Haymitch, but I'm prepared to ask her time table just in case. Josey finally nods and allows me to complete both testing procedures.

I draw her blood and send her into the restroom with a small plastic jar. Being a true Healer has afforded the Everdeen's with luxuries such as indoor plumbing. I wait outside the door as Josey does her business, then I come in with the necessary instrument for the urine sample. The sample may not be positive, so the blood test will ensure that we got the accurate result, though it will take a several minutes for our machine to process the blood sample. Josey stares out the window as I intently watch the little metal instrument calculate. After 1 minute the meter emits its reading.

"Hang on a second Josey," I say as I hurry out to the machine that is doing her blood work up.

Josey only showed me the print out for this machine a few days ago. I stare at the sheet of paper that it yields with my heart caught in my throat. When I turn around, Josey is gaping at the little metal instrument from her urine sample, open shock on her face. She looks up at me with confused and awe filled eyes. I nod, unsure if I should smile or congratulate her. Eventually my school training overrides my sensibilities and the standard words flow from my lips.

"Mrs. Everdeen-Abernathy, congratulations, you are expecting. Your contribution to the nation is for the good of Panem and we thank you for your sacrifice." I close my eyes against the words that have been ingrained in me, grimacing at myself. _Is this how Josey felt when she said those words for the first time?_

Josey releases a shaky tear-filled laugh, "You'll say that nearly every day of your life from here on out. It's what the Capitol wants you to say to drive the point home with each new mother. Their child is not their own. You might as well get used to saying it now. I did eventually."


	7. Connections to Home

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've struggled to overcome a lot of things in the past two-three years. There are only moments of clarity and freedom once in a while. This was written over several days of that. Thanks for sticking with me and my story. I hope you enjoy.

The next morning as I wash up the breakfast dishes, my mind continues to drift toward thoughts of unwed pregnant girls. I have the day off from helping Healer Everdeen and today I want nothing more than to have a relaxing bath and to go into town for some essentials. Rory, Vick, and Posy arrive just as I am drying the last dish. The door smacks open and hits the wall with a clank, as Posy rushes in.

“Arwen!” Posy squeals, running into the room and wrapping her thin little arms around my waist, “I’m so happy to see you again!”

“Hello, Posy. I’m happy to see you too,” I smile good-naturedly at the boys as they enter.

“Ma told us to come check-up on you,” Vick explains as he leans against the table, biting into a small apple that he just pulled from the pocket of his weathered jacket.

Hazelle must be worried about me, after the incident yesterday. I’m vaguely surprised that Gale told his mother about what we witnessed in the meadow, but if he knew of the girl, it was likely that he felt concerned for her family and wanted his mother to look in on them. I sigh and muster a smile for them as Posy climbs onto one of the wooden chairs. Rory takes the seat beside her.

“I brought a game! Do you want to play?” Posy asks me excitedly as she pulls some carved wooden pieces out of a small bag.

Gale must have whittled them for her. I remember him telling me that he enjoyed whittling. After the fourth piece is placed on the table, I realize what she’s assembling. It’s a chess set. My father taught me how to play when I was a young girl, about Posy’s age. Our set was polished with a dark coat of stain. It had been a gift from my grandparents when father was promoted at work. My grandfather had stained it himself after a friend made it.

I sit across from Posy and examine the pieces as she sets them out. Each one is smooth. Gale would have spent hours carving and treating them with the utmost care. Again, I marvel at the intricate things he is able to build with his hands. With only a glance, his hands appear rough from work. Yet, Gale’s hands seem to create beautiful delicate things. I smile as Posy pulls out the checkered board and starts lining up her pieces. Rory guides her by pointing out the correct placement, when she seems in doubt.

“Cool, right?” Rory says as watches me examine the chess set, “It took Gale ages to whittle it and collect the wood for it. It was a Christmas gift last year!”

“It’s beautiful,” I agree. We play a few rounds. Posy needs a lot of help remembering the rules and the permitted moves of each piece. Rory helps her, never getting frustrated with her. Vick shares in everyone’s victories, praising good moves and offering sympathy for losses. They really are sweet children. I wonder for a moment, what Gale was like as a child.

I smile at them tenderly as Rory explains for the tenth time the complicated routes that the King and Queen are allowed to move and what constraints there are in each scenario. His patience amazes me, for such a young boy. After a few hours they declare that it’s time to go home. I bid them farewell and decide to take my planned trip into the town.

* * *

Over the past few weeks, it has become very apparent that we need a couch of some sort. Whenever people visit or even, in our evenings when it’s just the two of us – it is difficult to sit for hours in wooden chairs and find any comfort. I’ve been planning to visit Odair’s furniture store, but the opportunity has not yet presented itself.

I donned a long skirt this morning with a long-sleeve shirt in anticipation of the chillier weather. The weather has begun to grow colder and soon autumn will be in full swing. It does get cooler in District 9, but I’ve never experienced the type of weather that Gale assures me will occur this winter. The breezes in my old district were warm, while comparatively District 12’s are cool and biting.

As I get ready, my mind slips back to Charlotte once more and I decide to stop and check in on her as I traverse the path to town. The Everdeen-Abernathy home is only two roads out of the way. I pull on thick stockings and my leather shoes, then my sweater and a knit cap over my hair for good measure. _Perhaps I need to get some gloves_ , I muse as I open the door to a stinging gust of wind. Certainly, I will at least need a warm coat eventually. My hands are tingling by the time I’m halfway there, so I fist them and tuck them as best I can into the pockets of my skirt.

Healer Everdeen’s smile has a note of surprise as I squeeze through the gap of her door, trying not to bring the chill in with me. Charlotte is sleeping soundly, her pallor still pale and sickly against the white cotton sheets.

“I thought I gave you the day off,” Healer Everdeen says quietly as she turns to the water she is boiling.

I see strips of white fabric floating within the boiling water, dressings for Charlotte’s wounds. We had discovered many large gashes across the outside of her stomach as well, once the blood was being cleaned away. I sigh and look at our slumbering charge, her face looks calm, perhaps from a sleeping draught.

“How has she been today, Healer?” I ask softly as I look over the younger girl.

“Must I tell you to call me Josephine every day?” She muses as she stirs the white strips to sanitize them. We share a small smirk.

“Oh alright, Josephine – how is she?” I reply. She nods and turns her gaze to the girl as well.

“It was a rough night. Prim had to help me tend to her. There has been a lot of bleeding and I gave her a transfusion again. We mixed a salve for the wounds, which seems to be slowing the blood loss considerably. I’m worried about infection within the womb though.” Josephine sighs. I’m worried about it to. That man who removed Charlotte’s baby had mangled her so deeply that we couldn’t readily stitch the internal lesions. It’s only a matter of time, before an infection that we can’t treat. She’ll be dead within a week, if it happens. My stomach churns at the thought.

“Do you need anything in town?” I ask Josephine, “I’m heading to Odair’s Furniture store, but I could stop by the general store or apothecary if you need.”

Josephine shakes her head. “No, that’s alright, we’re pretty well stocked right now. What are you looking for at Odair’s?” She asks as she begins to remove strips from the water.

“I still haven’t found a gift for Gale and we really need a couch or an armchair, especially when guests come over.” I remove the boiling pot and dump the water down the drain of her sink.

That sounds lovely. A gift that is used for family and guests – it symbolizes devotion and care for your spouse’s comfort,” she smiles. I blush at her words.

“Well, I just wanted to check in on Charlotte, I better be off,” I tell her awkwardly as I back toward the doorway. She nods and bids me to have a good day, smiling softly to herself as her eyes drift to the couch in her living area.

* * *

The walk to town is pleasant, despite the large gusts of wind that whip against me every so often. As I approach the square I see more people milling about wearing coats, sweaters, and vests to stave off the chill. I smile and wave at a few women as they pass. I walk through the arch into the square and onto the cobble-stones, which click under my shoes.

There’s a pair of girls sitting on a bench giggling to themselves in front of Odair’s. They keep glancing back at the shop window and then putting their heads together to whisper excitedly to each other. I see the red-headed man straightening up a display that is meant to represent a child’s bedroom.

The door to the shop has a tinkling bell that announces my arrival. There’s a thin woman behind the counter. Her hair is long, brown, and wavy. The expression on her face is serene as she fiddles with some sort of decorative figurine. The man is tall with a handsome face. His hair is a vivid red, much like my own. He turns to me with a dashing smile and immediately my eyes are drawn to his. I gasp as the emerald green orbs peer back at me.

“Aha! I was wondering if you would ever come in,” the man exclaims. His voice is nearly musical in its quality, a tenor that’s filled with a cadence that seems familiar. A thought begins to form in my mind, _could he be related to mother,_ but I don’t allow myself to put credence to it.

He turns toward the woman behind the counter, presumably his wife, “Annie love, come here and meet one of the new arrivals.” She looks up, smiling sweetly as she places the figurine on the countertop. She seems to float as she walks towards us.

“Hello dear, you must be Arwen,” she has a soft voice as she comes forward to grip my hand in way of greeting.

I clear my throat, glancing between the couple in confusion. “Hello, it’s nice to meet you.”

“I knew as soon as I saw you on that stage, that you had the Brooks’ blood in you. You’re a near spitting image of my mother. Are you Faun’s daughter?” Mr. Odair asks excitedly.

My heart swells as I realize, he must be a relative of some kind and with that, the thought I hadn’t let form slowly begins to flourish in my heart. He knows my mother’s name and I smile at him, delighted. The odds of running across a relative and actually knowing they are one is so slim, that I’ve only met a few people who have.

“Yes! Wow, I’d no idea anyone from the family lived here. Who are your parents?” I ask, amazed as I begin to look closer at the details of his face. I see the shape of mother’s nose and clearly the eyes are the same. My mother had one older brother, who stayed in the district and 3 sisters. The oldest of her sisters went to District 4 before my mother’s own marriage. She never knew what became of her younger sisters.

“Flora, the eldest. Annie and I are both from District 4. I’m the only son, just like Uncle Arthur our mothers’ brother,” he explains.

I smile broadly as he leans forward and I don’t care when he envelopes me in a tight hug. My heart soars with a strange joy that I didn’t know you could feel for a perfect stranger. When he releases me from the embrace his wife, Annie, folds me into her arms as well. She smells of something floral and sweet.

“Come, sit down and chat with us,” she says as she leads me to a nearby area with couches, settees, arm-chairs, and love-seats. She picks the most comfortable looking one and I lower myself onto the cushions, which feel simply divine, like I imagine a fluffy cloud would. I’ve never seen furniture this nice before.

“Tell me about the family,” Finnick requests as he sits on my other side and takes my hand into his large palm. It’s warm and smooth.

“I have two sisters. They’re identical twins, but their similarities only go as far as their physical appearance. They’re everything the opposite of each other and everything the opposite of me. More like my father, bronze-skinned with deep brown eyes. They have happy eyes. Their hair is yellow unless they step in the sun, then it’s almost like fire. Brenna loves boys and has a temper like the crack of a whip. Bronwyn’s carefree. She makes everything into a joke.” I smirk and giggle as I think about my sisters. Finnick smiles and his eyes urge me to continue.

“I have a brother too, Tomik. He’s ten years old. Whenever I look at Vick my heart hurts, because I see my brother in him.” I assume that the Odair’s know of the Hawthorne’s and don’t explain him further.

“Tomik and I were more similar than different. He’s gentle and imaginative. We both look like my mother, flaming red hair and creamy skin. My father is like my sisters, a man made of bronze and gold. He’s always happy, always smiling. My parents love each other more than I will ever be able to understand. And there’s my Nana and Papa too. They live in the little farmhouse next door. Gale reminds me of my Papa, quiet and steady. My Nana is blunt and truthful, but she’s very caring.” Annie hums contentedly as she listens to my descriptions. When my heart seizes up and tears begin to well in my eyes, Finnick squeezes my hand encouragingly.

“I have four younger sisters: Amelia, Clara, Jewel, and Talia. Only Amelia has the Brooks’ hair though! The rest have blond or brown. My father, Patrick has brown hair so that’s probably stronger in the genes. All of us kids have the green eyes though.”

I smile, “Looking into your eyes is like looking into my mother’s eyes again. The nose is pretty similar too.”

“My sisters are beautiful and funny young women. They all take after the humor of my father. Amelia is going to stay with my parents to help care for them. My dad was getting sick when I left.” Finnick’s voice takes on a sadder tone, “It’s been five years since Annie and I were contracted here.”

“Do you have any pictures of your family?” Annie asks me in an attempt to lighten her husband’s spirits. I nod in the affirmative as I feel my own heart clenching in sadness for my sick Papa and my family so far away.

“Bring it by sometime. We would love to see their faces,” Finnick gushes and Annie nods in agreement.

“Here, we’ve got a family portrait of the Odairs!” Annie alights and hurries to a fire-place at the side of the room. On the mantle there are several pictures and a vase of flowers. She selects a larger frame and carries it back tenderly.

Finnick beams as he takes it from her, he holds it between us and points out each member of his family with pride in his voice. A tear slides down my cheek as I set eyes on my Aunt Flora for the first time. She’s beautiful and every bit the image of my mother, just as Finnick said I was. I do take after Flora as well it seems, creamy skin and flaming hair aside – it’s the face that is so similar. I run my finger over her image and smile. Finnick presses his shoulder against mine and places a quick kiss on my hair.

“You really got all of the best genes,” he jokes. I release a sharp laugh of denial.

“Your sisters are lovely and they look so happy,” I say instead. He nods, smiling again.

Suddenly, Finnick seems to remember himself, “Oh, I’m sorry, you must be here to browse and buy something! We have plenty of time to chat since we’ll see each other so often. At least I plan to. I want to soak up all the time I can getting to know you.” He hands the frame back to Annie, before she makes her way across the large room to assist an older woman who has entered the shop.

He pulls me to my feet and takes me on a grand tour of the shop. There are so many beautiful displays and items. They sell decorations, picture frames, and furniture. Most of which is likely woefully out of my price range. The fingers of my left hand clutch the little money purse in my pocket, fiddling with the trim worriedly. I glance at the tag on a decorative bowl and step back hurriedly for fear of breaking it.

“So, what did you come in for?” He asks as he brings me round to the center of the room. Annie is helping the older woman browse lanterns and electric lamps.

“Well, I haven’t gotten a gift for my husband yet and I thought we could get something useful. We are really in need of a couch of some sort.” I glance back at the larger pieces of furniture, wondering if anything is cheap enough.

“That sounds like a wonderful idea, you can never have enough seating for company,” He affirms as he swings an arm around my shoulders, leading me to the section we were sitting in. He shows me six different models ranging in price, color, and size.

I pull out my meager money, as I realize I only have enough for the cheapest one. It’s brown and plaid. Finnick watches me glance between the money and the couch. He shakes his head, “Don’t you fret over the cost, I’m giving you the ‘Family Discount’,” he tells me proudly as he leads me to the couch that costs twice as much as the first. It’s a soft material that has different color threads woven together. I imagine that it would match just about anything with these various tones. I begin to shake my head to deny the expensive gift he is attempting to push on me.

“Annie, Arwen is going to take the marble couch, could you ring her up? Give her our first ever ‘Family Discount’,” Finnick yells to his wife who is currently packaging a simple electric lamp for her customer. The woman looks at me with interest when I come to stand in line behind her.

“Mrs. Mellark, this is my cousin! Our mothers are sisters,” Finnick beams proudly, wrapping an arm around my shoulders again. I blush slightly and greet her with a smile. The woman has a sort of brisk quality about her. I recognize the surname of the boy that Haymitch likes to pester Katniss about.

“Tabitha Mellark, I’m the wife of the town baker,” she introduces herself with a haughty air as she loosely takes my hand to shake.

“Arwen South-….Hawthorne,” I quickly correct myself. She looks unimpressed with my near slip of the tongue. She bids the Odair’s farewell as she exits with her wrapped box.

“Is it winter already? Still as cold as ever, that one,” Finnick shudders with a mocking tone. Annie rings me up and accepts my coins with a smile. She scrawls ‘Family Discount’ in the ledger next to the reduced price and I blush once more.

“We’ll bring the truck around tomorrow after dinner and help you arrange the couch in your living area. We have a few deliveries to make before then, but I would love to stop at your house last and chat with you and Gale,” Finnick tells me with a smile. I nod my assent eagerly.

I bid them farewell with a full heart and a smile spread so wide on my cheeks that they begin to ache when I finally make it home. My money pouch is lighter, but in the best way. I begin to fill with excitement at the prospect of Gale’s expression when he sees our new piece of furniture tomorrow evening. I ponder whether I should tell him before it arrives, or let it fully be a surprise.

* * *

After a light lunch, I finally decide to relax in the bath. I place the wooden basin near the large black-bellied stove to make it easier to transfer the warmed water. I pump bucket after bucket of water at the sink, heating them on the stovetop and dumping them into the basin. When the basin is sufficiently filled I strip off my clothes and ease my sore body beneath the warm water. It feels divine and I relax my body, rolling my shoulders forward and wrapping my arms around my legs so that I can soak up the water’s warmth. I sigh contentedly as I dump a pot full of the liquid over my head to soak my hair. I raise my right leg and balance it on the side of the basin so that I can begin soaping up my dirty limbs.

I am gliding the bar along my leg when someone walks through the archway into the room. I had been so busy enjoying the bath that I didn’t hear Gale enter the house with his haul from hunting. He steps into the room and pauses, blinking in shock for a moment. I shriek and instantly fold myself close together under the water, trying to hide all my parts. Gale stutters for a moment, mouth agape. Then he roughly shakes his head, drops his hunting bag and nearly runs out of the house. He slams the door on the way out and I moan in embarrassment.

I look up when I hear the soft tread of Katniss. She must have been standing in the entryway. She blinks at me for a moment in confusion then seems to take in my state. Her confused expression is quickly fading into a devilish smile. She begins to laugh, leaning against the archway and holding her stomach with her free hand.

“Did you see his face?” She splutters, “That was priceless. I have never seen him surprised before…wow.”

“I saw him alright. How embarrassing, I’m mortified. I’ll never be able to look at him again,” I moan into my hands as I press them to my heated face. Katniss snorts and shakes her head at me, obviously completely enjoying my humiliation.

I sit up in the basin and glare at her, but Katniss just laughs harder. When she finally gets a grip on herself the only thing she says is, “You two are going to have an interesting night. By the way, there is a dance tonight. I expect to see you there. Gale says he wants to teach you flat-footin’.” She grins wickedly at me before she waves good-bye and laughs her way out of the house.

When Gale returns later I have to look at the ground to hide my blush as I ask him to help me empty the wash basin. We fill the bucket and a pot several times, dumping the water down the sink. Then Gale and I carry the basin outside to dump the rest of the water in the yard. Neither of us can seem to look each other in the eye.

I clear my throat as we head back into the house, “Katniss says there’s a dance tonight.”

Gale nods, looking relieved to talk about something completely unrelated to our earlier encounter. “Yeah, it’ll be in the Hob,” he says as he puts the basin away. I had tended to his game-bag earlier, placing it in the icebox until he could return for it. He pulls it out and begins to address the different things within it.

“What’s the Hob?” I ask, as I sit at the table with Josephine’s book, trying to learn more about various salves and creams.

“It’s where the illegal black market is during the day. At night that’s where rebel meetings are and sometimes dances.”

“Really? The peace-keepers don’t raid it?” I ask, surprised.

“All the ones we have would rather get fresh things in trade than spend exorbitant money for deliveries from the Capitol,” he explains. I’m surprised that they would allow it, but the longer I’m here, the more I see that things are definitely different within Twelve.

“Have you ever been to a rebel meeting?” I ask quietly. Gale’s shoulders stiffen. He’s facing away from me and for a moment, I’m afraid I’ve said something terribly wrong. _Obey your husband, do not anger or upset him with intention._

_“Once…after my father died. He and Mr. Everdeen were rebel leaders…they both were killed in the mine collapse. Everyone thinks the Capitol did it on purpose to rid the district of the prominent rebels.” His voice is bitter as he tells me. I’m all at once amazed and horrified._

“I’m so sorry,” I whisper and he turns to look at me with a mixture of hurt and acceptance in his eyes.

“Let’s eat dinner and get ready,” he says instead.

* * *

I wear the same clothes, but Gale dresses in the clothing he wore to our ceremony. He offers his arm as we walk to the Hob. The night air is much chillier than the day was. I find myself pulling closer to Gale to ward off some of the breeze, “You were right, the nights are colder here in Twelve.” Gale smiles down at me.

“I’ll get you a winter coat soon,” he tells me as he places one of his large palms over the one I have pressed into his arm. There are a lot of people entering the large looming building ahead of us. I can hear music from within, mingling with the boisterous sound of voices. The heat of the building flows out into the night through the open doors as we approach. It beckons to me like a siren of fire as I feel the mixed air against my face. People are mingling around the door, smoking and chatting. Gale nods to a few men as we pass through.

My eyes scan around the large open space before us. There are all ages of people enjoying themselves. Women chatting at make-shift tables pulled together with empty crates, men are conversing raucously in between them. Children chase each other about, laughing merrily. There are a few stalls set up serving drinks and small food items, lines already forming for a sweet treat. To the left there is a large empty patch of floor where people are dancing and a band is playing a type of music I’ve never heard. I recognize a banjo and a guitar; vaguely I remember that one of the instruments is called a mountain dulcimer, something my mother talked about in her stories. Perhaps the other is called a fiddle; it looks like one I once saw in a book.

My eyes are drawn to Katniss, standing beside a young man with blond curls. She’s smiling widely at something he’s just said. I’ve never seen her wear a dress and her mane of long black hair is pulled back into an intricate design. They are standing just at the edge of the dancers.

Gale follows my line of sight and laughs lightly, “Looks like Catnip and the baker boy are being chummy again.” We watch as Katniss pulls the boy onto the floor. She stops him and walks a few steps further. She turns toward the blond boy, but spots us over his shoulder. Her eyes light up and she holds up a hand in way of explanation to him as she heads towards us.

“Arwen, you came! We have to teach you flat-footin! Come-on, I was just about to show Peeta how it’s really done,” She pulls at me eagerly, tugging my hat off and directing me to remove my sweater. Gale laughs and follows us onto the dance floor, after he tosses our things onto a nearby crate.

The blond boy smiles when Katniss returns. “This is Peeta,” Katniss gushes as she pulls me up to greet him.

Peeta offers a warm smile and a firm handshake, “Nice to meet you. I’ve heard a lot about you. Gale, how are things?” He turns to Gale with another firm handshake.

“Been busy, but that’s expected the first year on the job,” Gale explains. Peeta Mellark nods his understanding.

“Katniss was just about to show me that she’s a better dancer than me….or at least that’s what she seems to think,” he smirks as he glances at the flushed girl beside us.

“Well Mellark, she may have a point. She’s one of the best in the Seam…maybe second-best to me,” Gale grins as he appraises his hunting-partner. She feigns a look of outrage at him.

“You know, I’m better than you Hawthorne, admit it!” She croons, pulling his arm to drag him back to the place she was standing before she spotted us.

Another unfamiliar song is struck up by the band and Katniss and Gale start dancing individually. I’m transfixed by the light shuffles their feet make in time with the music. It seems like such a natural rhythm to them, like they are tethered to the floor, to the very earth beneath it. Peeta is smiling beside me. He whistles as Katniss and Gale move about before us, making the pair of them grin widely. Other people have come over to watch, spreading a swath of viewers to our right and left.

Peeta leans towards me, “You see, the thing about flat-footin’ is, the lighter you are on your feet, the better you are. I’m not so light on my feet. Naturally, the best hunters in the district are.”

“Back in Nine, we aren’t light at all. We stomp as loud as we can and make our own music with our feet and hands. We like line-dances too,” I say in return.

It looks as though Katniss and Gale’s feet haven’t moved an inch off the ground; they are stirring with such fine little movements, tapping away at the wood-plank floor. Gale’s arms are raised to his waist, bobbing up and down like a puppet on a string, a marionette almost. He doesn’t look stiff though, it’s almost as if he’s so relaxed that his body is flowing in the rhythm fully as though he was made of it. Suddenly, Katniss raises her right foot and crosses it over her left at ankle height.

“That’s called shuffling,” Peeta announces as though he can hear my thoughts on it.

Katniss begins to move backward and forward as she shuffles, like she’s carving a path into the floor and the earth beneath it. Her fine footwork is so nearly silent and the band is playing at such a quiet lilt, that you can just barely hear the tap of her boots. I realize that Gale has stopped dancing and is standing admiring his friends’ work. Katniss starts singing along with the music and her feet. Her voice immediately draws a swell out of my heart. There wouldn’t be a word lovely enough to describe the quality of it. Her voice has a deep richness that is warm and otherworldly. People are quiet behind us and the lull of those talking at the tables is dying down as they all turn toward her. She doesn’t even seem to notice, so caught up in the moment that she is focusing only on her feet.

I turn to Peeta, whose eyes are glued to the beautiful creature in front of us. He whispers to me almost reverently, “When she sings, even the mockingjays stop to listen.”

“I’ve never heard something so beautiful,” I breathe back quietly. He nods, still keeping his focus on her. “I have,” he says quietly, “Her father had a voice that could move a mountain, rope the moon, and bring the forest into silence.” I’ve not thought much about Josephine’s first husband, but I’ve gleaned how fiercely she and her daughters seemed to love him from the way they talk about him. Then, just today I learned from Gale that their fathers had both been rebels.

As the song ends, the hush of the crowd becomes more evident. Katniss’ voice ends on a sad note just before she looks up at the people gathered. A deep crimson blush blooms across her cheeks as the people around us clap heartily. I beam and clap along with them. At some point Gale had stepped back alongside me, “She’s amazing isn’t she? Doesn’t even know it.” He murmurs in my ear.

“Really and truly she is,” I agree.

“You gonna show me how it’s done in Nine?” Gale turns back to me as Katniss busies herself getting in line for a drink, Peeta trailing after her.

“Sure, but I’d have to get a partner to dance with. Know anyone from District 9?” I look around, as though I would spot someone familiar. I had seen a person here or there when I was out in town, but never anyone I knew very well.

“I’ll find you someone right quick,” Gale beams, “If you know any dances from District 9 come on up here,” Gale hollers merrily through the throng of rowdy people.

A few people hoot and holler when an older man raises his arm, a drink in hand, tumbling through the crowd. Gale pushes me toward the man good-naturedly. He is blond and tan, reminding me of my father. The man sets his drink on a nearby card table. He turns to me with a wide smile and takes his hat off. He presses the hat to his chest as he bows to me the way men do in 9 when they ask a woman to dance, “Howdy ma’am, do me the honor?” he drawls in a familiar tone.

A large smile breaks across my face as I curtsy to him in return, crossing my ankles and pulling my dress sides out, “I most certainly will cowboy.”

The man barks a laugh as we come together. We stand flush beside each other and cross our arms in front and behind, clasping our hands tight. Thom strikes up a lively tune on his banjo that Bristel matches with his fiddle. The tune isn’t that different from the songs that are played at dances in 9.

“Sounds like it’ll fit the beat of the ol’ Ring-Line,” the man says as he appraises the song. The Ring-Line involves a lot of _heel kickin’ and clog stompin’_ as the older folk would say. It’s definitely one of the most complicated line dances.

“You up for that much cloggin’ cowboy?” I ask him, half-joking about his stamina. It’s a dance for younger folk, but by no means is it always that way.

“Why ma’am, I sure am. I was a real spitfire at the barn dance in my day, and I ain’t lost much of it neither,” he smirks as he straightens up. He grips my hands tighter and lets out a rip-roaring, “Yipee-yai-yao” to get our feet in the slap-happy mood.

We both jump in place twice and start to stomping. We twirl each other like a threading needle, pulling through and around dizzyingly. Our arms push and pull and slide along as our feet find a rhythm. He wasn’t kidding when he said he was a real spitfire. His footwork is so fast, that I can barely keep time. My heart soars with excitement at the familiar steps. I find myself shouting out, a happy coyote howl.

My partner answers back with a loud caterwaul, releasing my hands and slapping his arms down to clap out a rhythm. It’s a challenge for me to show him my footwork. I clap my hands in time and catch a quick glance of Gale over the man’s shoulder. He has a smirk on his face and his eyes are shining.

I close my own eyes and feel my breath coming hard and fast. My cheeks ache with a smile I haven’t felt in ages. I listen to the rhythm of the music and start my feet into a clip-clapping, side-tapping, skip jumping tempo. I set a real heavy pulse twisting my ankles to get the quickest rhythm. My partner howls and falls down on his knees. He starts slapping on his legs, goading me on. I twirl around him, beating away at the wooden floor. I see the fire of our old district fields in his eyes as I kick my knees up high, gripping my dress in both hands. I offer one giant right kick over his head and swing back around the other direction slapping the floor hard as I bring my left leg up over him. My partner bends down slapping the wood with his palms as I twirl away and staccato beat my way to a stop.

I grasp my sides, breathing heavy, but smiling. The man jumps up and makes a dramatic bow. I curtsy and nod my head for him to take his solo turn. He skips up and kicks his heals before his feet attack the floor. They race a steady heavy rhythm that click-clack-clicks beneath him. My smile grows and I slap my hands together in a counter-beat. My partner twists and turns around me in a slow circle, his feet moving a mile a minute. I hitch my dress up around me legs and start dancing to the counter-beat, swirling the fabric back and forth on my thighs as I merrily tap along. I start to realize that everyone around us is clapping along and hollering heartily.

Eventually my partner and I get back into the Ring-Line formation and finish out the steps to the dance. When the song has ended we both jump straight up twice, causing a loud stomp-stomp to resound. We clutch each other with one arm and our sides with the other arm. It takes me a moment to realize that I am laughing loudly, tears welling up in my eyes. People are clapping noisily around us.

My partner releases me and snatches up his hat. He bows before me; hat pressed against his chest once more, takes my hand and kisses it with a wide smile. “Mighty fine dancin’ ma’am, it was a pleasure,” he says as he straightens back up and places his hat on his head. He picks his drink back up and takes a hearty sip.

“No, the pleasure was all mine. Thank you kindly, sir,” I say honestly as I try to catch my breath.

Gale approaches us, his face full of mirth. He looks more handsome than ever and if I wasn’t already at a loss of breath I think I certainly would be after seeing him in this state. _Good thing my face is already flushed too_ , I note. Gale slaps a hand on my partner’s back and shakes his empty hand roughly. The man’s drink sloshes around.

“You old dog, I didn’t know you had that in you!” Gale laughs along with the man. I wonder if he works with Gale at the mine, or if they just know each other through some other means. Hunting perhaps?

“You met my wife officially yet?” Gale asks as he presses a warm palm into my back, pulling me forward. The heat feels divine, though I’m probably drenching him in sweat.

“The name’s Boggs McGuff,” the man introduces himself, reaching his hand toward me. I give his hand an enthusiastic shake, “Arwen Southerland-Hawthorne.” I inform him with another bright smile, tacking my new name onto my old in hopes that he maybe knew my family. A look of recognition flashes in the man’s eyes and he slams his drink down on the table.

“You Landon Southerland’s girl?” I nod happily as he inquires about my father.

“Well, I’ll be damned. Look at you, I bet you made your Daddy and grand-folks real proud.” _I certainly hope I did_ , I find myself thinking.

I shake my head and laugh, “Daddy and Mama got three more kids to be proud of. I just happened to be the first.”

“And a fine looking first you are, you must take after your mama. I bet she’s as radiant as the sun. How’s your old man these days?” I blush at his compliment, but quickly focus on his question.

“Busy, but he has good work. The mill was runnin’ nearly non-stop when I left. My Mama keeps him peaceful though, keeps him in line. It’s Papa that has been gettin’ troubled. Out of work for a while now and he can’t stand it! If you know anything about him, you know my Nana is about ready to skin him alive and leave him for the coyotes,” I quickly rattle off a good-natured report on my family.

Gale presses his palm more firmly into my back and I find myself turning my smile toward him. Our eyes meet briefly, but then Boggs draws my attention again, laughing like he knows just what I mean about my grand-parents.

“You know much of the McGuff’s?” he asks, his eyes turning solemn and lonesome.

I try to concentrate on the name and see if it rings any bells. A cheerful freckle faced kid in Tomik’s group at school comes to mind. He wasn’t necessarily my brother’s friend, but they were definitely friendly acquaintances.

“I don’t know any elders, but there is a boy at school my brother’s age. Jaxon McGuff, he must be about ten or so,” I say, squinting my eyes, as I try to bring the kid fully to mind. Boggs’ face melts into a soft smile. He takes a sip from his drink and nods.

“Must be my younger brother’s boy, he stayed behind like your Daddy did,” he explains. For Boggs this must be an exciting thing to hear about. News of your family is worth more than anything to a contracted person. If I were Boggs and someone brought word of my kin, I would be ecstatic.

“What’s he like, this kid?” Boggs asks, taking another long swig and draining the rest of the drink. He takes a seat at the table and I feel Gale guiding me to the open chair across from the man. I smile and think about the little boy for a moment.

“Cheerful. Always joking and smiling. Tons of freckles,” I say happily. Boggs laughs and nods again like he understands something about those traits.

“He has always been nice to my brother, even when other kids weren’t.” Boggs seems happy about that. His eyes urge me to continue, but there isn’t much more I know about the boy. I think hard for a moment and suddenly remember that he has a little sister.

“Oh! He has a little sister too, maybe around five. I saw them walking home together once. She really looked up to him. I could tell, because that’s the way Tomik looks at me sometimes. Like I could make wheat turn to spun gold.” Boggs laughs and I wonder if that was the relationship he had with his little brother too. He would have been a bit older than him it sounds like.

Boggs looks off toward the crowd of people dancing, watching them as he responds, “Pity that I’ll never meet them.” It’s almost a whisper and very near should be, because it’s almost treasonous.

I just reach across and press my palm over his fist on the tabletop. It’s really all I can do to comfort a stranger whose only connection with me is the place we both left behind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading and reviewing. - Love, Fortunefaded

**Author's Note:**

> "On this day, I vow that I will honor my country, provide children for whom I will devote my life, support my district, and cherish the gifts that the Capitol has provided. I will do everything I can for the good of Panem."


End file.
